Judge of the Damned (Vampire Storm, Book 1)

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Judge of the Damned (Vampire Storm, Book 1) Page 3

by Nick S. Thomas


  “Damage control, please follow me, the Bishop needs you urgently.”

  Bradley led the two men upstairs to the Bishop’s office, but he stopped them before the entrance.

  “You, stay here, the Bishop has requested only your presence.”

  Tommy stopped, looking more than a little irritated he took his place on a chair outside the office. Bradley opened the door and led Bill through into the secretary’s office and through another door. The Bishop stood with his back to the door staring out of the window. It was a decadently arranged and decorated room with oak panel walls and tall bookcases. On the left wall a collection of weapons were displayed, a crossbow, axe and wooden stake. Bishop Williams turned around. He was an elderly man, though in good health and composure.

  “You’ve really put us in it this time, Bill,” said Williams.

  “How so?”

  “That Vampire you killed last night, he was unarmed I gather?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “And you hunted him down, and put a stake through his heart!”

  “He was a brutal murderer!”

  “And what evidence do you have to support that?”

  “We chased him from the scene of the crime.”

  “Did you see him kill the woman? Do you have any hard evidence?”

  “We saw what we saw, that ghoul was a monster!”

  “You see the problem I am faced with is this. I have a dead Vampire on my hands with no evidence of any wrongdoing. The only shred of evidence we have right now is that he was near the scene of a crime, not really enough to warrant a kill.”

  “I did not kill him for what he did, it was self-defence!”

  “It is rather hard to justify how one unarmed Vampire was killed in self-defence when being hunted by a four-man team of Guardians.”

  “Listen! That scumbag was killing countless people. We both know it! Why is this an issue?”

  “Because the Vampire you killed is Anton Brockner. He was of Karl Rainer’s Coven, and from I hear his closest friend.”

  Bill dipped his head and cupped his forearm with his hand. He was beginning to understand why the matter was such a concern to the Bishop. Rainer was an infamous leader in the State, controlling a lot of high power business in the city and linked, though never proven, to countless murders.

  “Alright, leave this to me. I will do what I can to find more evidence against Brockner. I suggest you take it easy for a few days, rest your wounds and spend some time with your family and parish.”

  “You think he’s going to be trouble?” asked Bill.

  “At this stage, your guess is as good as mine, we’ll figure something out.”

  Bill nodded as he headed for the door. The night before it had all seemed so simple. They were on the case of a brutal murder, he hadn’t thought for a minute that doing something so right could land him in so much shit. He hoped the Church would stay strong and support him, but for some reason he wasn’t absolutely confident in that fact. The Vampire Lords were becoming ever more wealthy and powerful, and that could go a long way to influencing and controlling elements of the Church.

  The door of the office swung open, Bradley had clearly been keeping a keen ear. Bill nodded in gratitude, but he hated the paper pusher. The Bishop’s secretary had too much power and control for a man that was neither appointed to a power of position, or who through experience had earned such a role. He was a cold and calculating man, one who you would never want to trust. He wasn’t a selfish or evil man, only one who at all times chose the path of least resistance. Bradley believed in peace between humans and Vampires at any price, and Bill knew that it would cost them long term.

  The door to the Bishop’s office shut behind Bill. Williams walked back to the window of his office, looking out across the perfectly landscaped gardens, a beautiful and tranquil place. Behind him stood a man who had remained out of view during Bill’s visit. The mysterious and shadowy figure was evil to the very core. That much was clear from his expression alone.

  The stranger was over six feet tall, with jet-black long hair, a perfectly cut thigh length leather coat and a deep red silk shirt. His skin was pale, his eyes a striking blue, and a wicked expression about his face. It was clear that he meant business, as clear as it was that he was a Vampire. The Bishop clearly knew of his presence, but continued to stare out of his window, watching as Bill and Tommy mounted their bikes and tore off down the road.

  The feeling in the room was uncomfortable. The Bishop could not bear to look at his guest, whilst the stranger clearly awaited a response. Williams rubbed his hands together and looked at his feet, searching his soul for some words.

  “Have you an answer for me yet?” said the stranger.

  The Bishop flinched at the sound of the voice, not from surprise, but from the realisation of what he was being asked to do. The Brotherhood had kept peace for many centuries, but they were long past the point of absolute control.

  “I want Bill Marshall’s head, I will take it whether you let me or not. I have been more than reasonable here,” said the stranger.

  Williams turned to face his guest, not wanting to give an answer at all, but knowing he must.

  “Mr Rainer, this must go through the proper channels, we cannot allow people to kill each other in the streets.”

  “I fully agree, but your man has killed one of mine. Your bible preaches an eye for eye, does it not?” asked Rainer.

  “I cannot allow you to kill a member of the Brotherhood without trial!”

  “Bishop Williams, I did not come here to ask your permission! I came as a courtesy to inform you of my intentions. Your man broke our pact, and I intend to set the record straight.”

  “Do what you have to do, but it ends there. A death each will make us even, from then on we must honour the pact.”

  Rainer did not speak, he only grinned. It was an evil expression. Williams could barely begin to imagine the pain and suffering that Marshall would receive at his hands. The Bishop felt sick at the very prospect of what he was being forced to do. Bill was one of his finest men and someone he would even go so far as to call a friend. Despite that, he knew he could not risk the consequences of going against the will of Rainer.

  Years before, Williams felt confident in controlling the Vampires in the area, knowing full well that they had to accept his will, no matter what. Back then, they were not organised as they were today, nor as wealthy and powerful. It was clear that the Church was losing ever more control throughout the world, and all he could do was keep the peace as best he could.

  “Thank you, Your Eminence, you have been most helpful.”

  “I want to hear nothing more of it, now get out of my office!”

  “As you wish.”

  The door again opened as the Vampire approached it, Bradley keeping a keen eye and ear on things as usual. Rainer grinned at the secretary as he passed him, content in his ability to intimidate with his sheer presence and expression. Bradley led him to the door and returned to the Bishop who was slumped in his chair, the look of a man who was utterly beaten.

  “You knew this had to be done,” said Bradley.

  “Did I? We have just thrown one of our finest men to the wolves, one of the few men who still believes in what we do and is capable enough to get the job done, is that progress?” asked Williams.

  “Progress is keeping the maximum number of people safe and a state of war off the table,” said Bradley.

  “We have been at war the day the Vampires walked this earth, we just skate around the fact and hope to avoid conflict.”

  “How is that a bad thing?”

  “The illusion of peace and harmony is exactly like that, and like all illusions, it will not last.”

  “What would you have us do, fight in open conflict?” asked Bradley.

  “No, we’d lose.”

  “Then we must play the hand we are dealt. This one death will save countless lives in the future.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure, it
is a sin to let Marshall be executed, and like all sins, we will ultimately pay the price.”

  “God forgives.”

  “It is not God I am concerned about, but the evil in this life time.”

  * * *

  Bill thought long and hard about his predicament on the ride back to his parish. He knew that there would be consequences for the killing of the Vampire, but he had no idea what to expect. He had killed seven in the past, but all had been in combat with absolute evidence against them, where no trial would question his antics.

  It was a long day in the parish, forever having to answers other questions when he had so many of his own. Bill had been a loyal and effective member of the Brotherhood, never could he have believed for a moment that it would come to such a point of contention. To him a ghoul was a foul creature, a pest that must be exterminated, he never liked taking them in alive. He could only hope that the Church would have the balls to handle the situation properly.

  The power and control that the Vampires appeared to be gaining had long concerned Bill. Hunting one-off villains was very different to a war against a wealthy and powerful section of society. The day went on without incident or news of any kind. Bill returned home to his wife, who was at least partially calmer than that morning.

  * * *

  It was Saturday evening and the sun was going down as Bill prepared to in the vestry of his church. He put on his robes as the parishioners flooded in for Mass. His wife and two daughters were among the procession as usual. It concerned Bill that he had still not heard anything from the Bishop Williams. The Church was always eager to treat public relation issues with haste, and yet he had heard of no developments. No news rather suggested a conclusion. Looking through the window of the vestry, Bill could see the sun finally set in the distance, the candles around the room flickered as he adjusted his clothing ready to begin the evening.

  Commotion rang out from inside the church, shortly followed by a gunshot. Bill quickly looked around in shock, listening intently to understand the nature of the incident. Screaming followed the shot, along with several more shots. Without hesitating any further, he pulled open the drawer of the desk to his side, pulling out his Smith and Wesson .357. He kept it as an emergency weapon, always ready loaded with silver bullets.

  It had long been the belief of many, that Vampires could not enter churches, nor touch crosses without being hurt, Bill knew better. Vampires avoided religious buildings and artefacts because they did not like what they stood for, not because it was at all harmful to them. The Church was well aware of this, but it still propagated the myth of religion keeping people safe from Vampires, as it strengthened the Church and gave people hope. It also ensured that Vampires were seen as villains, though more and more people were losing that message.

  Bill swung the cylinder out to check it was still loaded, seeing the six silver bullets he slammed the cylinder shut and cocked the hammer. Opening the door, he ran out of the vestry to see four gunmen firing relentlessly at the unarmed people in the church. Quickly lifting his revolver, he fired at the first, the bullet hit directly into the attacker’s chest.

  The gunman twitched in pain, his mouth opened and fangs shot out in anger. It was in this moment that Bill realised what he faced, a whole pack of Vampires with no allies and only a single weapon. Without letting the creature recover, he fired again at the head. The silver bullet hit the Vampire’s forehead and pierced to the skull, knocking him momentarily unconscious.

  He quickly turned his attention to the next Vampire, firing twice to its head, knocking it down. He knew the silver bullets would not affect them for long. All around the church were screams of pain and fear, blood coated the floor and guns continued to blaze around him. Bill knew he was a goner, with just two silver bullets left, he was expecting to die. Before Bill could target another Vampire he was hit across the back of the head, knocking him unconscious immediately.

  * * *

  It was thirty minutes until Bill regained consciousness. He felt disorientated. For a moment, he did not even remember the attack, nor where he was or the reason for it. His arms were handcuffed to the fender of a truck and he was sitting on the road, his back to the vehicle. He could hear screams for help and others in agony. Looking up, six Vampires stood before him. Behind them, the doors to the church shook, but a chain and padlock kept them shut. He could smell the fumes of gas.

  “What do you want from me?” shouted Bill.

  “My name is Karl Rainer. Earlier this week you killed one of my Coven, my dearest and oldest friend.”

  “He was a murdering bastard!”

  “No doubt, but he was my murdering bastard.”

  “I killed him in self-defence.”

  “I really don’t care the reasons why, you will pay the price for it, and so will they.”

  Reiner pointed to the church as the screams raged on.

  “No! What have they ever done to you?”

  “They insult me with their very presence. We have long lived in the shadow of your race, but that time is coming to an end. We will no longer tolerate you hunting our kind, you will submit to us!”

  “Never! You are the spawn of the Devil!”

  “Men like you can never be reasoned with. Your Church has made a mockery of us for too long. Now you will quickly come to learn why Vampires are feared.”

  Rainer pull out a zipper lighter from his pocket, its case was of solid gold. He flicked open the lid as Bill watched in astonishment.

  “What are you doing?”

  He struck the lighter and the flame burst to life. Vampires feared fire just as humans did. It was a universal horror across the species. He turned towards the church and tossed it on the steps before the barred and locked doors. The flame ignited the gas almost instantly, the flames spreading quickly across the building and through the gaps of the door. They had clearly laced the entire building with petrol.

  “No!”

  Bill screamed as he tried to get to his feet, but the cuffs kept him on his knees. His face tightened and went red with anger and rage. He screamed for his family. He had no idea if they lived long enough to feel the flames, he hoped not. The people still alive in the church screamed and shrieked in desperation, but it was no good. The flames tore through the building as he still screamed for his wife and daughters.

  The Vampires stood and watched the church burn, admiring their work. The flames quickly became so bright that they had to look away, their eyes too sensitive to the light. They turned their gaze to Marshall, revelling in the suffering they had caused. In the distance sirens echoed through the streets, fire trucks storming to the stricken families. They were too late.

  “Alright, let’s get out of here!” shouted Reiner.

  The suave but sadistic Vampire leader turned to Bill. He pulled out a Colt 1911, it was gold plated with walnut grips. He looked at the stricken priest. Bill looked up at him with a piercing stare. He had just lost everything. He had no fight left in him, but the hatred was already building. Reiner spun the pistol around and cracked the frame into Marshall’s head as he again lost consciousness.

  * * *

  Bill’s eyes began to open, but his vision was blurry. He could feel the wind on his face and the fresh smell of an open plain. He loved the open country, frequently blasting through it on his Harley, enjoying the fresh breeze. This was a far stretch from those long cruises down the highways. His eyes finally opened wider, his head was slumped. The first thing he saw was his feet, he was a long way off the ground, his feet bound in rope around wooden pole.

  Looking up, he saw the Vampires and their truck, the horrific events of the evening came thundering back into his memory. His arms were spread out horizontally and were bound as well. Looking around, he suddenly realised he was tied to a cross, crucified. They had not nailed his hands, just bound them. His only thought was that they were letting him live, to lengthen his suffering and dwell in the misery of his loss.

  Despite the blackness of the night, Mars
hall’s eyes had adjusted enough that he could make out his location. He was just off the highway north of the city, a spot he was rather familiar with.

  “He’s awake!” shouted Reiner.

  The Vampires of Karl’s coven cheered and laughed at the bloody sight of the priest. Blood dripped from the wound on his head, his white collar stained with his own congealed blood. They laughed at his demise, entertained by his suffering.

  “Hey, Priest!” Reiner shouted.

  Marshall looked up at the man in disgust. He was completely unable to move, and not willing to writhe in desperation to satisfy their sadism further.

  “Priest! You are going to suffer the way your precious Jesus did! You killed one of ours, we kill fifty of yours, may this be a lesson to you all!”

  “May God have mercy on your souls, if you have any, because I never will!” shouted Bill.

  “Didn’t ask for it, don’t need it! Goodnight, priest!” laughed Karl.

  He drew his colt, pulled back the slide, chambering a round. He took aim at the priest slung high on the cross, which was dug deep into the dirt with ropes giving tension on four sides. Marshall looked at them with absolute disgust, he would not give them the last ounce of satisfaction they desired. He would not show fear or weakness. Bill stared at his attackers, happily awaiting their sentence.

  Reiner’s colt fired, the bullet striking Bill’s chest, he twitched slightly on impact, his head dipping. He sighed at the pain and then looked up at the Vampire as if nothing had happened. Marshall could see the creature’s annoyance that he did not react to the shot, nor show any pain. Karl frowned at the priest’s stubbornness, it clearly bothered him, a small shred of satisfaction for Marshall.

  The Colt rang out another six times, the slide locking back empty. The priest’s body was riddled with bullets, but the wounds barely showed in the black of the night. Marshall was slumped on the cross. The Vampires stood and watched his body go lifeless. Drinking his blood did not even occur to them, it was a greater insult to let him bleed out. They admired their work for a minute until finally getting in their truck and racing off down the highway, leaving the crucified body of the priest for the commuters to see as the sun came up.

 

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