“Are we done with the interrogation now? Or would you like to dredge up other loathsome memories?”
“The war has intensified.”
“What General Hammers does on the battlefield is his choice.”
“So he was the one who decided to fight machetes with gunfire?”
Barnaby shrugged. “We stumbled upon a weapons cache and decided to use it. I see no harm in abiding by the rules of war.”
“But you beat a man until he revealed the location to you.”
Barnaby stared down at his feet, silent.
“I also know you kidnapped those scientists,” Brian continued, hoping to get some kind of reaction. “I know you created those monsters.”
Barnaby looked back up. “I figured a scientist of your caliber would appreciate the effort it took to crossbreed such “monsters,” as you prefer to call them. It was no easy task.”
Brian almost lost his hold on the anger coursing through him. He’d denied Barnaby’s involvement in creating the new beasts before his closest friend. He’d shunned Keith’s theory of a connection between Barnaby, the first vampire killed, and the beasts. The warmth spread up his chest and his cheeks became hot with embarrassment.
Through clenched teeth, he said, “You claim you want peace, but that’s bullshit. You’re ripping humans apart, and I don’t think you even care.”
“Oh, but I do care, Koltz.” Barnaby walked back to the merlons and crenels, hands clasped behind his back. “I care about my brethren. I thought that much was obvious from the beginning. The weapons. My beautiful creations. This is Darwinism at its finest. Natural selection.
“As it stands right now, harmony does not loom on the horizon. I am not one to sit by whilst the likes of you toil over right and wrong, continually neglecting your civil responsibilities. I also do not trust humanity to uphold peace should a solution present itself. Therefore, the war will wage on until the solution becomes a reality.”
“It is a reality.” Brian paused for effect. “I’ve created the platelet mushroom.”
“I knew you would, Koltz. Sooner than I had expected, I shall admit.” Barnaby turned to face him again. “You do not know how appreciative I am that you took Ashmore off my hands for me.”
Brian had been certain news of John’s death would cripple the Undead leader. So much for the element of surprise. “How do you—”
“Know that you convinced Ashmore to help you create the platelet?” Barnaby’s eyes turned pitch-black. “Because I orchestrated the plan myself.”
Barnaby appeared in front of him. Brian stood stock-still, tense and poised.
The Undead leader walked around him, speaking in a low rumble. “Almost a decade ago, I tasted Ashmore’s blood. In the laboratory, on your first tour of Safehold, I tasted yours. It was the same type. A delicacy throughout the ages, a rarity in modern times. It was what made the two of you alike.
“I knew then what you were overlooking in your platelet experiments. Your desperation to discover the simple solution was palpable. I could smell it in your perspiration, hear it in the lull of your voice. Desperation blinded you to the reason why your experiment continued to fail again and again. I knew then that you would accept the supreme gift of becoming an Undead. You had to. You believed in your feeble human mind that longevity—immortality—was the only solution.
“I turned you and trained you in the art of being an Undead, thereby enabling you to finally discover what you had been missing all along. Attuned to your new powers, your new body, you would see what you could not as a human. The immortality you deemed necessary would free you from your bonds of desperation.
“I also knew, eventually, you would find Ashmore. Or he would find you. But not when I was around. I knew him too well. He would not strike whilst I was in Haven. He was too much of a coward for that. So I belittled him, made him feel more useless than usual, and stoked his all-consuming anger. I knew his hatred would project onto you and smolder like hot embers. And it must have, or you would not be here now.
“Let me guess. He tried to kill you, hmm?” Barnaby’s pace slowed, his voice in Brian’s ear. “No. He set others after you first, didn’t he? Vincent and his cronies, perhaps?”
Brian’s lips were pressed together so tight that they were numb from the force.
“Good riddance. They were almost as annoying as Ashmore.” Barnaby resumed his speedy pace around Brian. “I figured you would discover the secret to the platelet in due time. I had hoped you would experiment on others first only to discover that, lo-and-behold, the willing volunteer with the blood type you needed was right here all along. And although I suspected this inevitable confrontation, this is not what I envisioned. Not so soon.
“However, I am quite proud at the moment.” Barnaby stopped in front of him, locked gazes, and winked. “This plan could not have worked out any better.”
It dawned on Brian that Barnaby hadn’t known his blood type until after he’d been kidnapped. “You had planned on killing Ruby and me if I hadn’t undergone the transformation.”
“I was going to force you to tell me what I needed to know about the platelet. Then I was going to assuage my bloodlust and dine on your corpses, yes.”
“Then why did you offer me immortality the first night?”
“I was going to drag it out, make you feel comfortable, then strike. But tasting your blood, I knew Ashmore was the key. I decided to pit him against you, turn you, keep you preoccupied so I could pursue my own endeavors.”
Brian smirked. “Your business trips. What’s so important in Egypt that requires so much attention?”
“You already know the answer. Think, Koltz.”
John’s final fragmented phrases echoed in Brian’s mind. “It’s what Barnaby craves.” “Magic,” Brian whispered, his stomach churning. The word sounded hollow, fake.
“Our birthright, Koltz.” Barnaby whizzed by. “Magic is the source of all of your abilities: Speed, vision, healing, immunity to sunlight, levitation, reattachment. It emanates from your eyes. It swells within you. It is the logical rationalization of everything your sciences cannot explain.”
Brian scoffed. “How come we don’t know anything about it then? Wouldn’t a human have stumbled on it at some point in history?”
“Only the Undead may use it. It is ours to command, to wield. Humans are too feeble in mind and body to withstand its raw power. That is why they cannot mate with vampires, for human offspring cannot withstand the mutations necessary to transform into the purest form of our race. Only by injecting our powers—our virus, as you would call it—directly into a human, and after they in turn drink human blood, can they truly embrace our race. Magic—and therefore vampirism—is a glorious privilege.
“Of course, there are balances to such great power. The sun saps magic reserves and blood consumption is the only way to replenish them. Magic also remains unpredictable during transference, which is why we all have varying degrees of powers or differing powers altogether. And, obviously, being the first vampire, I possess the most potent powers, including one that has never passed to any of my victims.
“Until you came along. We can thank you for understanding the vast potential my own blood carries.”
Barnaby chuckled as Brian furrowed his brow in confusion. “After seeing that all my powers had transferred to you, I decided to unleash my recent creations upon the world to see what they inherited from me as well. And I was quite surprised to learn that they are masterpieces. Bigger and better than myself, even.
“I am the past and present of our race. The mist wraiths and jackals are the future. And your platelet will ensure our glorious evolution.”
Brian’s words bubbled out laced with venom. “Why are you so goddamned infatuated with the platelet? What does it have to do with magic?”
Barnaby stopped pacing behind Brian, voice low and ominous once more. “Everything. The platelet will enable us to take our rightful throne as the superior beings on this planet. You, however,
will not survive to see this grand, brilliant future. I have revealed far too much, and there is so much more at stake.”
Brian shivered as icy fingers locked onto the back of his neck.
“Goodbye, Koltz.”
Chapter 45
Ruby raced up the steps in the tower, stumbling over her own feet in haste. She scolded herself for being so distraught over John’s selfless death. It had taken her too much time to decipher why Brian had been there one second, gone the next.
It could only mean one thing: Barnaby was back. She quickened her pace, her heart jumping with each stride. Trembling, she patted the Ashmore tucked in the waistband of her sweatpants.
She rounded the final turn in the tower and came to a sudden halt. The door to the Keep’s crenellations was blocked by a lone figure. Long black hair fell around perfect hips.
Stella turned, mouth pulled back into a gaping smile. “He’s back!”
Ruby smiled nervously in return.
Stella put a finger to her lips and then turned her attention back to the door. She opened it a crack. Ruby stepped forward, touching Stella’s back, straining her ears.
They gasped in unison and jumped in shock as brilliant flashes of light rent the darkness.
***
Brian dodged forward and rolled, clenching his teeth. Barnaby had almost succeeded in ripping his spine out through the back of his neck. He was lucky enough to have escaped with minor healable gashes.
Coming out of his somersault, he roared and whirled around. A foot hit him on the chin. He reeled back, teetering on his heels. He levitated and rolled in midair to his left. A figure flew past and Brian stopped his water-log roll. He turned to meet the inevitable assault. Fists plowed into his midsection. He doubled over, losing control over his levitation.
He plummeted to the stone rooftop. His surprised cry of alarm was cut short as he smashed into the stones. His limbs twisted in abnormal directions. Bones popped. Skin ripped. Tendons detached from muscles.
Barnaby circled above him and then rocketed downward. Though his movement made him nothing more than a blur, his wide fang-bearing grin was unmistakable.
Brian squeezed his eyes shut. Warmth spread from his chest, enveloping his limbs. He urged the powers to mend his broken body. The warmth dissipated and his fingers twitched.
Realization dawned on him as the powers heeded his calls. He was in complete control of them even though he didn’t yet understand them.
When he opened his eyes, Barnaby was inches away. With milliseconds to spare, Brian rolled to his right. The crash beside him was deafening. As fragments of weathered stone showered down on him, he blurred his vision. Winds heeded his command, standing him upright.
Barnaby climbed out of the crater created by the impact and sneered. “Give up, Koltz. We already know how this ends.”
Electricity crackled all over Brian’s body. With a guttural growl, he gnashed his teeth together and propelled forward. Barnaby squared away, chest out, black bolts lancing out of his eyeballs and skimming away down his angular cheeks.
Brian threw two right jabs, then a left hook. As he’d predicted, Barnaby dodged the jabs but swallowed the hook. The Undead leader stumbled. Brian darted in and clobbered him on the top of the head with an overhand punch. Barnaby dipped in stature, and Brian called upon the winds of levitation, left thigh raised. His knee connected. Barnaby grunted and black blood sprayed out of his mouth in a fine mist. He crumpled to a heap at Brian’s feet.
Brian restrained himself from cheering in triumph. It wasn’t over. Not yet. He stood above Barnaby, body ablaze. He reached down and grabbed the unmoving Undead by the collar of his ruffled shirt. “What about your people? What about your vampires? Are they all mad like you?”
Barnaby’s eyes fluttered open, pitch-black. The ever-familiar smirk appeared. “You idiot. It is all about what I want. It is all about the future of my world.”
“What about Hammers? The citizens of Haven? Father Stephenson?”
“Fuck Hammers!” Barnaby snarled and locked his hands upon Brian’s wrists with vice-like power. “I killed his son! Do you think I give a shit about him? Do you think I give a shit about the sniveling citizens of Haven? The cowards and down-trodden who are too weak to carry out my deeds on the battlefield? And Father Stephenson is no more than dust to me! They are all as insignificant as you and the humans you continue to protect!”
Barnaby levitated until he was standing again, hands gripping Brian’s wrists with iron-clad resolution. Their bodies crackled with their respective colors, and a hovering moon illuminated the contrast in their spitting energies. Brian dug his heels in as winds whipped about his face. He skidded backward, unable to mount an offense.
“This is bigger than any of them, Koltz. Everyone is expendable. You have no idea what kind of power resides within you. You have no fucking clue what magic lurks out in this grand world of ours. You are too short-sighted and ignorant to ever understand my plans and what the future will indeed hold.”
Brian narrowed his eyes, aghast. “Do you have no compassion whatsoever? Do you truly not care about anyone but yourself?”
“No.”
“Not even Stella?”
Barnaby pulled Brian in close and spoke through gritted teeth. “She birthed a monstrosity, a reject. If she died tomorrow, I would not grieve.”
Brian was about to retort, but a loud gasp broke the silence, followed by a mournful wail that rescinded into the bowels of the castle.
***
Stella pushed past Ruby, moaning as if scorned. Ruby gawked, exasperated, as the voluptuous vampiress disappeared down the stairs.
The dueling vampires had been embraced in a power struggle. Words were uttered but she hadn’t been able to hear them.
But Stella surely had.
Ruby knitted her brow. She needed to be on the battlement, if not to curb her own curiosity then to help Brian in whatever struggle was taking place. She inhaled, nervous. Then she yanked the door open and stepped out. Barnaby whirled around, face twisted in surprise.
She caught Brian’s gaze and panic roiled through her, clutching at her throat. She could see it in his eyes. Just like when he’d been resurrected in the fountain, after his transformation.
All reason was lost.
***
Barnaby let go of Brian’s wrists and whirled around. “Stella?” he whispered.
A woman stepped through the doorway, a mass of curvy, vivid blotches. Brian couldn’t make out her features; his sight had switched to infrared. He didn’t care to stare at the bright blotch anyway. The vile creature standing before him required his undivided attention.
He focused anew on Barnaby’s dark silhouette. Lies. Barnaby was a whirlwind of smoke and mirrors, façade upon façade. He lied about wanting peace; he lied about not caring for Stella; he had lied to Brian about his intentions. He was a sinister creature, born from the mold of man, set forth upon the Earth with no other purpose than to destroy it. He was a wicked, selfish liar who killed friends and foes without remorse.
He deserved to die.
Frustration and anger burst forth through his moral dam. The inner warmth swirled like a mad cyclone, and his sight returned to normal. Without realizing what he was doing, he front-kicked with his right foot, using a combination of levitation winds and balance to deliver a crippling blow to the lower lumbar of Barnaby’s back.
The Undead leader cried out. Brian lowered his left shoulder and charged, barreling into Barnaby’s shoulder-blades. Something popped. Whether it was his own shoulder or Barnaby’s bones, he didn’t know.
He didn’t care.
Barnaby doubled over, still on his feet. Brian folded his hands together and brought them up over his head. Warmth blasted through his gut, his chest, his shoulders, his elbows, into his forearms. As he came down with the over-handed hammer blow, nigh-invisible waves of indestructible force rippled out from his hands. They plowed into Barnaby first, bringing him to his knees. Brian’s hands then co
nnected, cracking into the top of Barnaby’s skull. The shock rolled through Brian like vibrations from an earthquake.
Barnaby swayed on his knees. Helpless. Pathetic. He was now on the verge of defeat, at the hands of his pupil, his creation.
Brian laughed and raised both of his arms out wide. The warmth shot through his limbs again, into his fingers, leaving them tingling. He sliced in with both hands. Again, the ripples plowed into Barnaby first. His hands pushed through the ripples and slammed into the trapezius muscles at the base of Barnaby’s neck. The Undead leader’s head bobbled as if struck by cymbals.
Still, the arrogant prick did not fall.
The warmth grew into a white-hot fire, pulsating through every cell. Brian felt attuned to the magic, as if he’d always possessed and controlled it. And then his stomach lurched, and his confidence faltered, and his mind screamed at him in warning.
Barnaby stumbled to his feet and spun around, face twisted in confusion. He spoke, yet Brian didn’t hear a word.
He was too consumed with panic to hear anything.
He tried to gasp, couldn’t draw air, realized breathing was for the living. The fire burned in his chest. He was afraid the energy was growing too strong to control.
Too destructive even for him to command.
Barnaby stretched out a hand.
Brian stretched out his own arm and stepped back. No, he mouthed. Stay away. He couldn’t hear his own voice, nor Barnaby’s. Nothing but a horrid buzzing in his ears.
The fire shot into Brian’s outstretched arm and blew through his hand. Power bellowed out. This time, though, it wasn’t a sonar-like ripple. A jagged one-dimensional nigh-invisible line formed between his fingertips and Barnaby’s chest.
A bolt of blue lightning suddenly burst out of his fingertips, travelling the same path as the invisible line.
The black energy which encased Barnaby’s chest sputtered, then died out altogether. The blue bolt of lightning scorched his shirt. The Undead leader cried out in anguish and flopped to the battlement floor. The lightning disappeared.
The Human-Undead War Trilogy (Book 1): Dark Intentions Page 34
