The Blood In Between (The Safe Haven Trilogy Book 3)

by Randall G Ailes

Don Lucido continued. “Many small forces have gathered together to bring about our end. I think they have us exactly where we want them.”

  “My house is destroyed.” I said, slowly shaking my head. We were still crouched and shoulder-to-the-wall.

  “The house serves us even in its death throws. It hides our escape and keeps the attention of our enemies focused on the fire and not searching the shadows. Let’s hope our house is the worst of our losses. Let’s go find Milan, and the beast inside him.”

  The grounds beyond the firelight’s reach were made darker by the contrast and it masked the coming dawn. The high walls around most properties caused the streets to be draped with many dark shadows. I could see things, but as my eyes could now view things in the night. I was losing my ability to see as I once did in the brightness of day.

  Down the street came children whose appearance and movements were strange. It was unusual enough that anyone would be out and about in these wee hours before the dawn, but ones so young and unattended were plainly out of place. I had thought that perhaps the house fire had awakened them but Charlotte grabbed my sleeve and whispered, “The widow’s children.” Initially, we had seen them before they saw us, but when they came to their notice they let out with a series of yips and barks. They didn’t sound like a dog or a child but certainly with the excitement of a pack of hounds hot on the trail. There were five of them, five of the fox-faced kids, the feral kids kept by the widow. They were not quite human and not quite dogs or whatever they were. But their clamor was enough to attract attention to where we hid beyond the courtyard wall. Archers who might hear it were not able to see much even from the loftier perches. The garden walls were too high and the shadows too deep.

  But here began a spark of lunacy. Whether by direct order or a few bored or frustrated marksmen, a few archers aimed blindly in the dark and let go with flaming arrows to light the alleyway. With no regard to the cause of the ruckus or who might be involved, they had aimed high and two of the burning arrows landed not on to my wall nor into the street, but upon the home of my neighbors across the street. The points stuck in and a drizzle of flame rolled down the side of the home. Revealed in that light was what I had already seen. Five fox-faced children, the wonder-work of the widow Belladonna, influenced in unimaginable ways by her potions and enchantments, stood in the street and tipped their heads back and forth in slow fascination as they watched the river of fire. The glow of the light hit everyone there. We were hidden and protected from the archers but the children pointed excitedly, barking and growling, calling out as children might. These few might have been the youngest of the widow’s brood. Their noises attracted the attention of others like them who were patrolling the inner courtyard and watching the flames. There were a few larger and older ones, nearly adult sized, and they managed to jump from the courtyard to the top of the wall. We heard answering cries from the courtyard patio with voices lower and deeper, and could actually hear them as they surged toward the wall.

  An explosion of force and light came from my burning house sending lightning flashes from the mountain of fire that was once my house. The intensity of that flare-up was blinding, and those who were watching the fire’s performance squinted afterward as they were dealing with halos of light, slowly dissipating from their bewildered eyes. The flash had lit the darkened street, and there I beheld the forms of large horses making their way towards us. Their eyes glowed an insane crimson once darkness had returned from the flash.

  The feral children were transfixed by the light display and never had a chance…never saw them coming. The unnerving steeds stole upon these children and they were grabbed by their clothing at the back of their necks and shaken senseless like ragdolls. They were tossed by great heads and iron necks as if they were weightless, over the wall like small bags full of broken parts. It quieted down in the courtyard after the broken children came to rest upon the patio. It was an awkward silence. Then the older children, now witnessed what the devastating destruction of their own kin looked like after being hurled from the darkness over the wall. They howled and shrieked in anger and alarm and fear.

  Archers focused now on the area beyond the wall where the poor feral children had been flung. This was the first ripple in a plan they had rehearsed many, many times. They fit their arrows and drew back their strings readying for an opening where their shots could make a difference. Then they saw the wild eyes unmistakably staring right at them. Some bolted right then and there. They had been trained to steel their resolve against monsters, but what were these fiendish beasts? To look into those eyes was to see the coming of your own death. Others had taken to their training and readied to employ the skills their training had developed. They crouched and awaited their moment.

  More explosions of light followed, though not from the burning house. These came from Beatrice the vampire witch. Her hands threw stars and pieces of suns and again it was blinding. It was hard not to look when this show began. It was short but amazingly impressive and left the observer unable to see as well as they had beforehand, as blotches of these flashes were slow to fade from the eyes. Beatrice moved her hands together as if she were washing them in water. After the display she had launched, she drew a breath and appeared haggard.

  “Beatrice, are you alright.” I asked.

  Charlotte started for her, but Beatrice waved her off

  The haunted steeds drew up before us. There were three of them. Where the rest were, I did not know. Don Lucido talked as he walked among them. “You’ve made a long journey to be here, you cursed chargers. You must have shaken many lives to their foundation. Many tremble, now in the night as they move about or even as they sleep, from the mere sight of you.” The one don Lucido was speaking to, jerked his head briefly down and then up, almost as if it was nodding ‘yes,’ but not quite. I sensed a bit of pride there. As usual, don Lucido’s words were often harsh and unwelcoming, yet his manner was affectionate, especially when his hands patted, smoothed and soothed. “But you live your fate as I live mine, so I’ll leave you to it.”

  Even don Lucido looked small in size compared to them. I had seen Veria walk in the midst of them a time or two, even barefoot. She had seemed a little girl among giants. In fact, I thought I had seen Veria among the horses as they were arriving, but could not find her now. The horses passed by don Lucido and approached us. Beatrice petted them and called a few by names I never knew they had. Then they came to me and their noses pushed me backward. Perhaps they smelled the changes going on inside me. They wanted to smell Charlotte as well but I didn’t think this was a good idea without some counsel.

  “This is Charlotte. You know her. She has had a rough road too, just as you. Not everything that happens to you on your journeys is something you wanted.”

  They snorted. I swear flames came out those nostrils. Standing only a few seconds longer, they regarded her and then turned and disappeared into the shadows. There lay an awkward silence for several seconds. But then thunder became something real, not just something heard. It came not from a certain direction but from within and underneath and nearby. Houses and walls began to shake and crumble. Great hooved legs were kicking and pounding. Structures at first only shuddered from these blows, and those located on the tops of them merely turned their heads in curiosity. But the horses, who mostly stayed in the shadows, were relentless in their drive to reach the archers or those associated with Milan. My neighbors, and indeed the city, were unfortunate collateral damage. Walls fell to the ground and homes caved in, followed by the awful thunder of the wild, screaming, haunted steeds. The bow men at first could only send their arrows into the shadows without narrowing a target. But before they could string a second or a third bolt, the very foundation they knelt upon began to fall apart beneath them. And after the demolition and the horses’ search for their quarry, came the fire. My house was now like the bullseye of a target, with burning buildings fanning out in every direction from there.

  We, at first did nothing but watch t
he horses deliver their fury. But as we watched, we were joined by a handful of people who had accompanied the horses at some point on their travels to la Coruna. At first, I was on guard as they filled in around us, but my concerns quieted some, as my vampire family responded to them warmly. Then I could hear their song.

  53

  Constantine was in a panic, trying to calm his troops before they all just cut and run. The trouble was that many thought, because the house had collapsed onto itself, the mission was over. And who could blame them? They had completed the mission cleanly, no casualties. Who could blame them for wanting to get away before something overlooked might pounce? But now this insane attack from these beasts in the shadows. Where had they come from? And their rage was so fierce. The buildings just as the plans they had made were crumbling apart. His small army was now flailing and in flight but that wasn’t good enough. They were being picked off one by one as they reached the ground, and brutally so. He would gather those he could and calm them down.

  MacQueen could hear one of them behind him but didn’t turn around. If it was the enemy he was dead, and if it was one of them from the side he fought for, then he was dead as well, he knew it.

  “Have you come to kill me?” He asked of whoever now shared the room with him.

  “I have come to give some of your army back.” It was the vampire Bevin and beside him was the she-vampire, Jennifer.

  MacQueen turned but tried not to look at either one of them. But they had a handful of archers with them, and the one ushering these men through the doorway was Desmondo Milan.

  “As you can see, this is a war. A battle to the death. Hopefully this will urge you on because, make no mistake, if things go badly they will be coming here to kill you.

  “What are those things? They appear to be horses, but they aren’t horses.”

  Jennifer was watching him through half-lidded eyes. “Are you afraid MacQueen? You should be. They tore apart and trampled a friend of mine, a vampire. Those are Hell’s own stallions, if you ask me, no matter what the lore of the ages might say. Do you have many arrows MacQueen? You’re going to need them.”

  Milan walked through the archers gathered there, and joined the vampires and MacQueen in front, saying “The horses were a surprise but we have a nice surprise for them, too.”

  He held out a leather parcel that was rolled like a blanket or a rug. Faces showed confusion so Milan placed it on a table and revealed the contents. They looked like the arrows they had been sending but the tips looked filmy, a bit blue…dusty.

  “The best archers get these.” Milan said to the room. “Hit a vampire with one and we will either have a dead vampire or a new friend to welcome into the fold. Don’t touch the tip. The widow had a potion in her shed that survived the fire that took her house and everything around it. It’s a potion that makes people fall under a trance more easily. We’ll use this with Del Rio and his freaks if any of them have survived, maybe the horses too.”

  Milan gazed out over the burning buildings below. “We may well bring the city down in flames. It would only be fair. Del Rio tore down our little village.

  What I want is proof that they are dead and gone. No miracle revivals. No more fumbled attempts in scattering their remains. Some endings I’ll just have to see to personally. But I will allow them life, living under our control. I don’t want Del Rio or any of his rabble to have any of their minds left at all. We can supply what we need to drive their bodies like horses under our reins. The one exception is the Daccota tramp. We share a long and frustrating history. I want her mind trapped inside that tempting morsel of a body, there to bear witness every time I plunder it but helpless to do anything about it. But worry not if she is dead or if she dies struggling against us. She has meaning to me, but I could be content just throwing her ashes to the wind.

  Be gone now, all of you. Get to your stations or your assignments. The fiery steeds are not enough to stop what needs to be done. They are too late and they now have our attention. What would it be like to have them under our control?”

  ……..

  I was thrown on top of one of the haunted horses and it was made to gallop through the shadowed streets away from the growing fire, in the mounting dawn, accompanied by don Lucido, Beatrice, and Charlotte. We left these new arrivals, I now knew to be Havens, and ran in a short spurt until we were beyond an arrow’s reach. Some people were diving out of our way, or pulling loved ones from our course as we sped. I could still hear the thunder of hooves crashing into stone, brick and mortar, the collapsing of houses and walls, the roar of the flames and the cries of terror from soldiers and residents. When I dismounted, we had stopped in front of a large shed. The horses left so as not to give clue to our hiding place. The door to this shed was slid open and we stepped inside. It was musty and still and old.

  “What is this place?” I asked. I had dismounted by myself and under my own strengthening power, walked into this dark island.

  “It helps to have a hiding place nearby.” Don Lucido said. “We have just inherited this place.”

  “Oh? Since when?” I asked.

  “Tonight or tomorrow night, whenever I get around to it.” He mused. Then, he turned more serious. “This was an old potter’s house before it was given over to the keeping of livestock. He made a room down below to store his supplies. It’s a large room. Soon I think, we will make it bigger. You know how we like secret rooms.

  Now, go below and finish becoming a most magnificent creature. Stay here. This might be the last order I give you. The sunlight is just about here. Remember that. Ferdinand is trapped by the archers. I must go.”

  Then he disappeared as he went back into the burning city.

  Beatrice took my arm and Charlotte’s, and walked us to the narrow stairs where we descended, single file, to the storage room below. A lantern was lit, and because it was solitary, it danced the shadows to and fro. I watched it, momentarily transfixed. Shapes, both the strange and the familiar, jumped and flickered on the walls and ceiling.

  “I know you get tired of being taken care of, but minding after someone doesn’t stop after they can care for themselves.” Beatrice said. “I am so glad you are near the end of your turning. You’re walking better…steadier, and we need you to be strong for yourself and for us. These are treacherous times. It reminds me of other times when the three of us have shared basements and tunnels under barns and such.” I felt Charlotte’s hand squeeze mine in remembrance as Beatrice went on. “These are the haunts of vampires, as you know, but still it feels like fate has a play here.”

  We looked the room over for the safest place to ride out the firestorm. Outside a noise had been building. I had first thought it was panicked town folk fleeing the danger, but the clamor built until it came to the forefront of our attention. It sounded like hounds baying excitedly after coming upon the scent of their quarry. But a closer listen revealed it was the widow’s child abominations. They had followed us to where we hid. Beatrice moved toward the stairs, her ears attuned to the rabble outside the front door.

  As she ascended she said, “Prepare yourselves. This has gotten ugly.” Then, just before reaching the top she warned, “Don’t come upstairs…either of you.”

  We watched her feet disappear into the darkness of the main floor. Charlotte and I pressed to the wall to look outside through some uneven and ancient construction near the ceiling of our room. We stood on tiptoe from the dugout and peered out with our faces at ground level. Some of the fox-faced children had gathered outside our shabby building, regarding the shed, tilting their heads back and forth from one shoulder to another. They drew back from the hut and appeared fixated on actions beyond what we could see from our particular angle.

  There was a bright flash so intense it reflected outside and down the stairs from inside as well. Along with the light flash was the accompanying low, explosive sound. In that moment, the flash revealed the vampires Bevin, Jennifer and the Widow Belladonna. The appearance of even one of them
was concerning. Some of Belladonna’s unnerving children must have reported seeing us when we rushed down the dark street with the horses.

  “Yer witching knowledge is rusty, Beatrice. Ye have forgotten more than ye remember. Yer incantations won’t stop us from entering. Yer ways is old, rusty and outdated. Ye will die here this day.” Belladonna taunted.

  “If you are so sure, then quit talking about it and step forward with the confidence you pretend to have.” Beatrice responded.

  Charlotte and I crept up the dusty narrow stairs, poking our heads up to see what was happening. Beatrice and Belladonna each stood before the opening, on opposing sides literally and figuratively.

  “I don’t need to come inside, vampire. I can stay out here and watch you burn.”

  “You see?” Beatrice said to Belladonna and those behind her in the street. “My sister-witch says my enchantments cannot keep her from entering, yet they do. Notice how she backs away.”

  Belladonna was angry now, embarrassed in front of so many. “Ye think ye are so clever. But we will see who is laughing when this rotting shack burns down around ye.”

  “Isn’t that what you thought when you burned down the other house? Yet, here we are.”

  “Even if you survive, the blazing sun will turn you to dust.”

  “You’re right. I’d better get some sleep. Thanks for dropping by. Come back and visit sometime when there isn’t someone else inside pulling your strings.”

  Over Belladonna’s shoulder I could see some of the archers arriving with bows strung and arrows fitted. As they filtered in, the feral children wanted nothing to do with them and pulled back, nervously watching. I became concerned about Beatrice’s exposure to a trained arrow, and feared Belladonna’s taunts and insults might be distractions to draw Beatrice into the open or to a window or door.

  “Get out of the way, witch. Let’s light ‘em up.” Bevin said from somewhere out of sight.