by J. C. Diem
Shrugging, I handed him the keys. “You’re the boss.”
He grinned but his tone was solemn. “No, Mortis, you are the boss.”
“What do you think sounds better, Empress or Queen?” I mocked.
“As long as you use any title other than Comtesse, no one will complain,” he said and shuddered. The praying mantis had been well known and well hated. I doubted anyone would be sad that she was dead. I was kind of surprised that no one had given me a medal for taking down the entire Council single-handedly. Granted, I’d killed most of them while they’d been asleep, so it hadn’t exactly been a fair battle.
Almost narrow enough to cause claustrophobia, the tunnel had been roughly hewn through dense rock. The ceiling was low and water seeped through minute cracks in the walls and pooled on the ground. I had a feeling we weren’t far from the prophet’s former mountain home. He’d probably been sent a vision centuries ago that he would one day need a safe haven to retreat to. Someone had carved out this secret retreat and I doubted it had been made by humans.
Danton stopped at the first door, but I pointed further down the hall. “You’re men are about halfway down the corridor.”
Slanting me a curious look, he continued down the tunnel until I stopped at a door. It took him a few tries before he found the correct key. By the time we’d freed all five unconscious guards from their chains and carried them to the prophet’s bedchamber, the sun was readying itself for bed.
Taking another count of the fledglings in the caves below, we would be badly outnumbered once the sun faded from the sky completely. “Watch over them,” I told Danton. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Where are you going?” he asked as he cleaned vampire goo from the sword that he’d picked up in the hallway.
“To destroy Magerion’s minions.”
Nodding grimly, Danton saluted me with his borrowed weapon. “Until you return.”
Zapping myself downward and into the centre of the unmoving fledglings, it took a second for my eyes to adjust to the dimness. Up above, gas lamps lit the hallways. Down here, there was only one source of light. A small fire sat off to one side and shed flickering shadows on the wall.
Gathering the power of the holy marks, I mentally marked each newly made vampire for death. With less than a hundred targets to annihilate, it wasn’t necessary to let the power build up until the floor was shaking. Once all in the room were caught within my mental crosshairs, I released the holy marks and winked myself back into the bedchamber above to avoid the carnage.
Keeping my senses on the targets below, I felt them all explode into nothingness. “It’s done,” I told my new companion.
The sun fell and the five warriors roused before Danton could voice the questions that were foremost in his mind. Their confusion was short lived and they adjusted to their freedom quickly. “Guard the door,” their leader told them as they stood.
“Yes, master,” they replied. With a curious glance at me, they began filing out into the hall. It had been over a decade since they’d seen me last but all recognized me. They either remembered me from my brief visit to their mountain retreat or they’d watched the video footage that had been taken of us during the alien attacks in Manhattan or Las Vegas. More than one of the soldiers had surreptitiously filmed us in action and had leaked the footage to the press. I hadn’t seen the videos myself but had seen them in the minds of many of the humans when I’d been learning how to use my telepathy. If my friends and I hadn’t been famous before, we were now. Don’t you mean infamous, my alter ego said slyly.
Trusting Danton, his men didn’t protest at leaving me alone with him and the prophet. A couple of them gave me a respectful nod before leaving. Speaking of the prophet, the cinnamon stick hadn’t woken with the advent of night and still remained trapped in his coma. “What do you want me to do?” I asked Danton. For all I knew, the monk might have an elaborate ceremony planned. His mind was a confusing whirl of emotion and thoughts that were difficult to sift through.
“You could try cutting your flesh and dribbling a small amount of your blood into the Prophet’s mouth.” Danton seemed as uncertain about how to proceed as I felt.
I held my hand out and he handed me his sword. Knowing how quickly I healed, I leaned over the ancient vampire and held my hand just above his lips. They were parted slightly, as if waiting for me to feed him. I barely felt the sting as the rusty metal sliced into my palm. Only a few drops of fluorescent yellow escaped and dripped into the wizened vampire’s mouth before the cut healed.
Danton leaned over the bed opposite me and watched his master in apprehension. The prophet’s eyes snapped open a second later and I let out a mental breath when they were the usual black rather than scarlet. I’d been worried that he’d somehow become my servant just from drinking my altered blood.
Focussing on my face, the prophet spoke in a language that sounded like gibberish to anyone but me. “Mortis, is it time for you to take up your rightful place as our absolute ruler?”
“Not just yet,” I replied in the same language. “I have a couple of things to take care of first.”
“Ah, yes. You must first restore Lord Lucentio then save humanity from the creatures who are about to cause great harm to our world.”
Sensing humour in his words, I voiced a complaint that I’d kept bottled up inside since I’d first been created. “How many times must I save the flesh sacks? Haven’t I done enough for them already?”
“Not quite,” he said and reached out to take my hand. “You still have several tasks to perform before Fate will allow you to rest.”
His grip on my fingers was weak and his hand looked like a mummified claw. My first instinct was to make a sound of horror, leap away and wipe my hand clean, but I resisted the urge. Then his message filtered through. “I have several more tasks ahead? Seriously?” My dismay was profound. I’d already saved the Earth three times from an invasion of one kind or another. Now I was faced with an unknown number of quests to perform before it would all finally be over.
“Some tasks will not be as daunting as you fear,” the prophet soothed.
His hand fell out of mine as his strength failed him. Danton leaned over and tucked the blankets around his master as I furtively wiped my hand on my jeans. Now I smell like a cinnamon stick, I complained mentally. “Danton told me you have information that I need to hear,” I said.
“You have seen what happens now when creatures feed on your blood.” It wasn’t a question and I nodded as I suppressed a small shudder. “You must be vigilant and keep watch over your home, Mortis.”
I could understand what he was saying, but his words were still cryptic. My home was a mausoleum and, if I could manage to save Luc, I’d never return to its damp confines again. Sunken black eyes watched me, waiting for a response. “I’ll keep watch,” I promised and that seemed to satisfy the aged vampire. His eyes slid shut, but I believed he was simply resting rather than subsiding back into his coma. My blood wouldn’t sustain him for long and he’d need to feed or risk death. His life force was flickering dangerously on the edge of annihilation.
Danton gestured for me to follow him and we left the bedchamber and traversed through the narrow hallways. The monk stopped when we were out of earshot of his master. “What did the Prophet say?”
“He told me to be vigilant and to keep watch over my home.”
“That is all?” Danton’s brows rose in surprise.
“Pretty much,” I shrugged. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a rescue mission to perform.”
Danton and his five warriors hurried after me. “I believe I would like to see Magerion humbled before the true ruler of our kind,” Danton said to my back. I didn’t mind having an entourage, just as long as they didn’t interfere when I fought my way through Magerion’s minions to reach Luc.
·~·
Chapter Six
It would have been far quicker to simply teleport into the large cavern, but I didn’t want to deprive
Danton and his men from the carnage that was about to be unleashed. I followed Danton’s directions as we made our way through a series of passageways to a final, far larger tunnel. Light flickered at the end of the path, illuminating the cavern where my beloved was supposedly being kept.
Facing the opening, one of the guards spotted me and raised the alarm. At his shout, more vampires spilled into the cavern from several other passageways. Our small group was now outnumbered by three to one, but none of Danton’s warriors seemed perturbed. They formed a small shield around their leader with me as the spearhead. They’d stopped long enough to arm themselves with swords but I hadn’t bothered to find any weapons. I’d tear these henchmen apart with my bare hands if I had to.
Drawn by the shouts, another vampire scurried towards the main cavern. I sensed him slowing down to a walk just before he reached the opening, then he sauntered nonchalantly into sight. Strutting through the opening his underlings made, he stopped in the centre of the room beside a wooden box. I sensed the semi-familiar remains inside that I was now pretty sure belonged to Luc.
“Ah, Mortis,” the short, rat-faced vamp said, “how nice of you to join us.” He spoke in Romanian and I answered him in kind.
“You must be Magerion.” Looking him up and down through the crowd of armed lackeys, I didn’t hide my sneer. “You’re a lot shorter than I expected.” He wore a black cloak that was several inches too long for him and dragged on the ground. I suspected it had once belonged to Vincent. His thin, pale face was framed by stringy brown hair that hung to his shoulders.
Rage twisted his rat-like features into an even uglier mask. “Get me a torch,” the self-declared ruler of the European vampires snarled to one of his men.
Hurrying over to the fire, a henchman pulled a flaming chunk of wood out of the pile. Our kind tended to be extremely flammable and he held the wood gingerly as he made his way back to his leader.
Magerion took the torch and held it threateningly over the small box. “Choose your words carefully, Mortis. The fate of your precious Lord Lucentio lies in my hands.”
Cunning and a jealous hatred shone from his eyes. Living beneath Vincent’s rule would have been enough to drive anyone mad and Magerion appeared to be certifiably nuts. Yet he was lucid enough to have planned the kidnapping of my most favourite companion. I’ll have to be careful dealing with this little psycho. Then again, being careful wasn’t something that I was very good at. “What do you want from me?” I asked him bluntly. Finesse had never been one of my strong suits, either.
“Pledge your loyalty to me and become my concubine.”
His supreme confidence almost made me laugh even as I mentally threw up at the idea of having his grimy hands on me. He wasn’t the first insane vampire to think he could force me into his bed. “And if I refuse?”
Lowering the torch towards the box, he chuckled and even that sounded like a rat squeaking. “Then Lucentio will burn.”
Pretending to ponder his offer, I wished I knew whether Luc was impervious to fire or not. My friends could now heal wounds that would be fatal to our kind, but they had yet to test their capacity to heal to its fullest extent. “What do you plan to do if I do pledge myself to you?”
Thrown by the question, he stared at me blankly. “Do you mean what specific acts will I require you to perform in bed?”
Mentally vomiting again, I shook my head. “What is your plan for our kind?”
“Ah.” Wrenching his mind out of the gutter, Magerion puffed out his narrow chest. “My plan is to turn as many humans into my slaves as possible. I have already begun to build my army and I will soon take control of Romania.” His grin revealed ragged yellow teeth that any rodent would have been proud of.
“I have some bad news for you, Melvin,” I said with false regret. “I kind of destroyed your army.”
“My name,” he said through clenched teeth, “is Magerion.” He drew himself up to his full five feet four inches of height and tried to stare down at me imperiously. Since we were exactly the same height and I was wearing boots with a three inch heel, he failed miserably. Then my message filtered through his rage. “What do you mean you have destroyed my army?”
“They’re dead.” I drew my thumb across my throat to illustrate my point. “That is why I was created, you know.” Still trying to comprehend that the bulk of his undead army was dead, he had trouble understanding my meaning. “It’s my destiny to stop psychos like you from attempting to take over the world,” I explained.
Magerion’s narrow face hardened. “We all have a choice, Mortis. We cannot be forced down a path that we do not choose to take.” He was very wrong about that. Every time I’d tried to thwart my destiny, my course had been forcibly corrected for me. “As a consequence of your choice, Lucentio will now die.” The grin he sent me was full of malice. “Say goodbye to your lover forever.”
As he turned to drop the torch into the box, I willed myself to stand right in front of him. I caught the torch as it fell and hurled it at the closest group of his minions. One immediately caught on fire and bright blue flames flared. Screaming, melting and flailing his arms, he managed to set two of his cohorts alight. The rest scattered to avoid the flames.
Roaring a command for his warriors to attack, Danton drew his sword and went on the offensive. He was well skilled in combat, as were his men. Magerion’s lackeys were far less competent with their weapons and were being slaughtered.
Turning to flee, Magerion’s feet left the ground when I grabbed him by the back of his cloak and lifted him into the air. Scarlet light from my eyes bathed his face when I turned him around to face me. Gibbering in terror, he clawed at my wrist but he couldn’t break my hold. “Do you know what I do to anyone who tries to harm my loved ones?”
Feet flailing, he choked out a reply that sounded more like a plea. “No.”
“Let me show you.” Dropping him, I grabbed him by the throat before he could try to run. My free hand became a swirling mass of particles that were almost too tiny to see. Magerion began to scream even before my molecules invaded his skull through his mouth, ears and nasal passages. Once deep inside his head, my hand became solid again. The self-proclaimed ruler’s eyes bulged and he made a strangled sound as my hand closed around his brain.
I could have squeezed the organ to pulp but decided to try an experiment instead. Concentrating on my hand, I willed it to reattach itself to my wrist. An instant later, my arm was whole and I held a soggy grey lump in my hand. Bereft of his brain, Magerion’s body instantly turned to ooze and the organ in my hand broke down to coat my fingers in goo as well.
With a grimace of disgust, I knelt beside the now empty cloak and wiped my hand clean. Danton and his warriors had taken care of most of Melvin’s men, but I caught sight of one sprinting down the tunnel that led to the prophet’s bedchamber. Before I could race after him, a pair of minions attacked me.
Empty handed, I wasted a few seconds in dodging their wild sword swings before grasping them both by the face and unleashing the holy marks. I had full control of the dark power that resided in me now. It came when I called it and their heads popped simultaneously. Their bodies disintegrated into mush, leaving the usual puddle behind.
Snatching up their dropped weapons, I teleported into the prophet’s bedchamber just in time to see the shrieking henchman straddling his withered body. Gathering myself to leap the short distance to the bed, I staggered a step when the prophet spoke directly into my mind. No, Mortis, you cannot save me. My end was foretold on the night that I was sent my first vision over two thousand years ago. Remember my warning, remain vigilant and watch over your home… His words trailed off as the lackey’s sword punched through his chest.
“No!” Leaping forward, I beheaded the henchman, but I was too late to save the prophet. His eyes were closed and he was smiling slightly. Apart from the sword sticking out of his flesh, he almost appeared to be sleeping peacefully. The dark watery stain of the dead henchman soaked into the bedding, ove
rpowering the smell of cinnamon.
A strangled sound behind me announced the arrival of Danton. “I’m sorry,” I told the monk as he dropped to his knees beside the bed of his former master. “I wasn’t fast enough to save him.”
Sparing me a grief filled smile, Danton attempted to absolve me of my guilt. “I was aware that the Prophet’s end was near. You are not responsible for his demise. We all must face our end sometime.” His gaze slid away from mine when he remembered that I was essentially immortal. For me, there probably wouldn’t be an end.
Reverently, he grasped the sword that was sticking out of the bundle of sticks that had been his master and pulled it free. With a dry crackling sound, the prophet collapsed into dust rather than into a puddle of sticky goo. His essence had been severely drained from his self-imposed starvation. Apparently, we needed blood in our system to turn into a moist sludge.
Apart from Danton, his five warriors and me, the caverns were now empty of life. It was time for me to inspect the contents of the box and determine whether Fate had been telling me the truth about Luc.
·~·
Chapter Seven
Leaving Danton and his men in the prophet’s chambers to grieve for their loss, I willed myself back into the main cavern. Sitting in the centre of the cave, the plain pine box looked far too small to contain an entire person. I vividly remembered the state that Luc had been reduced to and knew that his chunks would easily fit inside.
Steeling myself for crushing disappointment, I walked over to the container and looked down. I’d been in this condition myself many times now, but my stomach tried to flop over at the sight of blasted flesh that had been reduced to the consistency of dog food.
It wasn’t until I spied a familiar hand that was whole and unmarked before I finally allowed myself to believe that it was Luc inside the box. Picking the appendage up, my own hands trembled. “Is that really you, Luc?” I whispered.
