Empire of Blood: A Dystopian Vampire Trilogy (Bundle, Boxset) (Plus Two Empire of Blood Short Stories)

by Robert S. Wilson

  George had also taken it upon himself to meddle with Imperial paperwork and spread anonymous rumors about particularly nasty Imperial clergymen and women that typically led to them losing their positions or worse. He couldn't really control how severe the punishment ended up being, so there was a risk in getting someone hurt. Although it was the last thing he wanted to do, that risk was worth it for what he was able to accomplish. On one hand he often felt guilty for the deceit he was creating, on the other hand, he knew his actions were done for just reasons. That and seeing the effects of his work made every day of it worth it.

  George entered through the front door of the church and began to climb up the four floors of stairs to his room. He nodded at Sister Mercy when he passed her going the opposite direction. He wondered then if any of the clergymen had suspicions about him. It was known throughout the church that someone was interfering with Church operations, but it was only spoken of in whispers and if they were doing anything about it, it hadn't yet come back around to bite George in the butt. Stepping out onto the fourth floor, George sighed at the considerable mess about the room.

  It wasn't long before there was a knock at his door. He rose to his feet and pulled the door open just enough to peek out his head. Father Whistler stood in the hallway, hands behind his back.

  "Why, hello, Father. To what do I owe the honor of your presence?"

  Father Whistler gritted his teeth, an expression of complete impatience lining his cheeks and forehead. "We have a report of heresy and attempted murder of a church official in the southern district, Deacon Nelson! I need you to send this report out to every district church and police station immediately." He pulled a pile of papers out from behind his back. An expression of disdain dripped from every muscle in his body. "And do try and not fumble the report this time?"

  George gave a slow bow of reverence and took the pile of papers Father Whistler held out for him. "I'll have these out immediately."

  "Good. If they're not out by morning, I will send them myself and then we'll see what Bishop Brothers thinks about that." His eyes drilled into George's with a hint of threat and then he turned and walked away, his long flowing robes dragging behind him like some black and terrible wedding dress.

  George closed the door and sat down with the report. Attempted murder? He sifted through the pages and quickly understood what had actually happened. Yusef Amin Tahir and Umar Aali Tahir, father and son respectively. Yusef is wanted for attempted murder and contributing to words of heresy while Umar is wanted for speaking words of heresy. George skimmed through the report. Reading between the lines told a story about a boy beaten for speaking what was likely something innocently related to his family's religion and his father had either attempted to protect him or had reacted to what had happened to the child. George had seen cases like this more times than he could stomach. He put the report down for a moment.

  Many of these cases ended in death for the guilty parties. But delaying the report just long enough could buy Yusef and Umar enough time to escape to somewhere safe. Father Whistler at least seemed to have noticed the delay George's last report transmission had taken, so he would be watching this time. There had to be a way to hold the transmission back without getting Bishop Brothers involved. Bishop Brothers’s involvement could put a rather permanent end to George’s work really quickly. George put the files on his desk and lay down, letting his mind wander for a time. If he concentrated too hard he might miss the obvious. One way or another, he had to find a way to give these two time to get away.

  Chapter 32

  Chance Meetings and Broken Promises

  The monstrous truck rolled up onto the highway ramp with ease, Jonny shifting it in third gear to get as much momentum as possible before racing back onto US 65. He wondered with an odd sense of humor if he should ask the Emperor, who had been ever at his ear since the moment he told the old bastard about Hank's plan, exactly why it was that the Empire had never bothered to change the names of the old highways. He knew it was likely the scale and cost of such an overhaul given how many signs for each highway littered their shoulders with constant reminders to drivers where they were and where they were going.

  But none of that really mattered. He was on his way to kill a man who had promised him he could save Julie. The whole world felt upside down. Speeding along, weaving in and out of traffic, Jonny focused on the road ahead and tried to let go of the worries clouding his mind with doubt and fear. Just as Hank had said he would, the Emperor had been tracking Hank's movements via satellite from the time he drove off. Now it was just a matter of catching up and then...

  Jonny suddenly had to swerve to avoid hitting a car in the next lane. He had let his worries grow again, become distracting. Blinding.

  "Mr. Cross, I would advise you to find a way to calm and focus yourself before I have to end our little deal right here and now, do you understand me?"

  "Yes. I'm sorry, I'm trying."

  "Try harder, Mr. Cross. I can't afford for you to get yourself killed. I need you to succeed." The Emperor's breath grew heavy for a moment. "Which reminds me, I have changed my plans. You are to stop at exit 235 about eleven miles north of your current location and pull in to the first gas station you come to. I have supplies you'll need for this new plan there. A man will be waiting in the parking lot in a black Ford Taurus. He will provide what you need, no questions asked."

  "I don't understand. What did you change?"

  Silence filled the cabin of the truck, giving Jonny a sense of vast emptiness for a moment.

  "Suffice it to say that your conscience will be clear, Mr. Cross. You will no longer be responsible for carrying out the death of Mr. Evans. However..."

  Jonny waited for the words to come, sweat accumulating between his hands and the steering wheel.

  "You will be responsible for bringing him to a secure location. And in order to accomplish this, you'll need these supplies. This is all you really need to know at this time, Mr. Cross. I must take my leave of you for the time being. When I return, I trust you'll have acquired that which I have provided and that you will be quite close to the location of Mr. Evans."

  The faint static that accompanied the Emperor's voice flicked away into a deeper more lonely silence. A welcome sound after days on end of the old bastard breathing down his neck. He found his ability to focus returning more and more by the second now that that sadistic monkey was no longer riding his back. He let out a long sigh and turned on the radio. Heavy rock guitars blistered through the speakers. Jonny let the rhythm of the music flow into him and course through his veins and before long he was completely focused on the task at hand. He had little choice now but to roll with the flicker of the flames and hope that maybe... just maybe, he wouldn't get burned.

  ***

  It had taken hours of driving but they were finally in the good old country side of East Tennessee. It was a long shot, but Yusef was hoping against hope, Chandler, his ex college roommate, would welcome the two of them in hiding with open arms. It was the only thing he could think of to do. He had plenty of friends that would more likely take them in but each lived in the city and would likely be the first places the Imperial police would look for them.

  They passed a small green sign that read, "Pleasant Shade Unincorporated." A moment later, they passed a small combination gas station and restaurant of the same name on the left. Yusef started watching for addresses on the right side of the road. When he found the street number that matched what he had for Chandler, he eased on the brakes and turned into the small gravel driveway, and put the car in park. He killed the engine and looked over at Umar's bruised and swollen face and fought tooth and nail to keep from letting the fear and horror in his heart come out in the expression on his face. "Umar, you stay here for a minute. I'll be right back. I just have to go and talk to an old friend real quick, okay?"

  Umar nodded, a blank but somewhat melancholy expression in the way his mouth hung open and the dazed far off look in his eyes. Yuse
f reached forward and hugged the boy's face to his chest for a moment and then kissed the top of his head and got out of the car. There was a large old rusty blue truck parked in the driveway. It didn't look quite like something Chandler would drive, but then this place didn't look quite like somewhere Chandler would live either. At least not the Chandler that Yusef had known over two decades ago. Before the war. Before the Empire rose to power.

  He walked up to the front door and, after a quick moment of near panic-filled hesitation, knocked. Inside a dog barked in low-pitched short percussive growls. A familiar but muted voice shouted from deep within the house, "Shut up, Lucy!" The dog's barking only increased in volume and fervor. "I said, shut the goddamn hell up, Lucy!" The slamming of doors and stomping of feet led closer and closer to the front door then suddenly it burst open and, shoulders hanging low, head cocked slightly, Chandler stood holding the door open with one hand, the other cupping over his eyes to block out the sun. The whites of those eyes were bloodshot, his face covered in a long scraggly graying yellow beard, and his skin hung tight against his bones for lack of muscle or fat.

  "Yusef?"

  "Hi, Chandler..." Yusef was at a loss for words. "It's great to see you."

  "Fuck it is. What the fuck are you doing here?"

  ***

  Umar watched as Daddy talked to the strange man standing inside the house. There was arguing, he could tell. He'd seen enough grown ups quietly argue to know when they were doing it. Their hands waved around and their shoulders drooped like they were using their arms to push down something really heavy and they often threw their arms up in the air like they were trying to fling stuff off of some invisible high shelf or something. It hurt real bad to move, but Umar couldn't help but scoot up in his seat to see what was going on. He didn't want anything bad to happen to his daddy. Not that bad stuff wasn't already happening to him and his daddy, but he knew it could get worse.

  He knew the church was mad at Daddy and that it was all his fault. He didn't mean to talk about Eid al-Fitr but the Sunday School teacher had asked him what his favorite day was and the words just came out before he could stop them. The thought of all those sweet treats he and his father had shared at the end of Ramadan that year had put a big happy grin on his face. Umar sniffed back the tears that were fighting to reclaim that face. He had tried really hard to be strong for Daddy while they drove and drove and drove, but now he was tired and the pain in his cheek and forehead was aching really badly and he wanted nothing more than to go home and lie down in his bed right then. But Daddy had said they couldn't go home. Not today, not ever, not again. He would miss Teddy and Monster, and Foxtrot and all his other toys and stuffed animals. Before he could stop himself, Umar began to sob. He watched as Daddy ran back to the car through his blurry tear-drenched eyes.

  Daddy opened the door and whispered with a quick sense of urgency, "What's wrong, Umie? What's the matter?" He shushed and cooed at Umar, but Umar just couldn't stop crying. After a minute, Daddy turned and hollered out to the strange man. "He's really had a rough day of it, so I'll just sit with him in here until he calms down and we'll be in in a little bit, okay?"

  The strange man nodded, his eyes staring back at Umar with that mean look that older boys gave him right before punching him in the arm or the chest or the stomach. This only made Umar cry harder and his daddy closed the door, took him in his arms and rocked him close to his chest. "It's okay, little man. Everything will be okay, I promise." Umar let loose all the hurt and sadness he'd been feeling ever since Pastor Bradley started hitting him and yelling at him. When his sobs broke up, Umar sniffed up the snot hanging out of his nose and looked up at Daddy.

  "Daddy, what's hair-I-see?"

  Daddy giggled for a moment. "What, Umie?"

  Chapter 33

  Birth and Rebirth

  The pain struck from no place she had ever been able to see in all her visions and all her centuries. It crept up like a cougar and struck just as swiftly. The Queen had been in labor many times, but this time was different. Much different. And though she tried not to think about it, she knew exactly what that meant. What would happen to her body and how painful that death would be. The two children inside her stretched their limbs and pushed and bit and tore inside of her and there was no stopping the constant agony of it.

  She grabbed hold of the bed her body lay upon, bending the metal frame of it with her bare hands. The ground around her began to tremble as her grip on her powers fought to keep from crushing everything within its reach. Dust sprinkled down from the cave ceiling and she willed back the immensity of the invisible force scrambling out from her in all directions. It smoothed some but still shook the ground beneath her. The next contraction came on then and the first one seemed a world away in both time and intensity. She screamed. A nearby glass shattered. Having nowhere to go, the liquid that had been inside it seemed to jump in the air in the glass's immediate absence.

  A deep moan escaped her. She knew then. It would be long. Not long by comparison to the eons since she had walked out of the desert and sailed across the seas. But long in the unending time that pain has a way of making itself continue on and on. Long in the way that uncomfortable silences stretch on forever and ever. It would be long and it would be terrible every moment of the way. The wave was riding its way down to calmer waters now and she began to breathe quickly in order to focus away the pain of it. She longed for her lovers, her favorite children to be by her side at this moment. But Hank was gone, Simon was gone, and Ishan...

  The tears came again then. She hadn't cried in twelve centuries before she shed them in Simon's presence just the day before and now here she was again. The ripples were rising again. She could feel the incoming upward motion as it lifted toward another crest. A deep, long involuntary moan erupted from her throat then as the wave reached full height. It held on longer than she expected and her voice rose in volume with the vibration of it. She could see the vibrating sound waves tail around the room and bounce off the walls, and then suddenly they morphed into something else. The glow of vision rose much faster than normal then and she was suddenly thrust within its flying cocoon. The world was left behind and only dreamscapes and illusions remained. All around her the spirits rose and cried out for her blood. She was an ethereal being in an ethereal plane now and the pain was some far away place where she had never been, never bled, never fucked, and never dared to breathe.

  The glow of her foresight wrapped around her like a long golden sash, twirling and flapping, her body twisting and spinning. They were all around her now, reaching and clawing and screaming. Rachel... Peter... Isingoma... Stanislov... So many sacrifices, so many children lost along the way. They spun around in her vision with her until they were draining away into the blackhole below her where all the dreams she'd ever had, all the visions she'd ever found a way to avoid went to die. Some place of nothing so vast it could hold all of the stars in just one atom of its never-ending void.

  Their bodies stretched as they were sucked away. And then she too felt the tug of that power, pulling her inside and then everything was spinning. The stars and the planets and the moons and...

  She woke up, still screaming. The reverberation of it shook the entire Hive. Rocks and debris dropped down from every ceiling. She could feel her children fleeing from their place of rest and crowding into each other in chaotic panic. She fought to hold back the power but it just wouldn't stop now. It had become a thing unleashed and she cried out as her mind reeled to try and get control again. Her children were screaming inside her head. Never had she felt so much fear from so many voices. She sent out a wave of comfort to them. My children, be still. It is just your mother's pains of labor.

  The voices calmed some and before long her closest ancient children came to her side, holding her and whispering in their thick mucousy voices. A long moment of discomfort trailed into relief and the Queen exhaled a heavy breath. Thank you, my children.

  ***

  Something was happening
. Something big. She could feel it shaking the whole cave. The motion and the sound of it brought her to consciousness and she opened her eyes. Above her, the enemy Queen's children fluttered and scrambled about in the air. It had been over a day since Bellona woke to find her powers returning. She had in turn decided to rest and let them continue to grow. Now she could feel the fury of it growing within her, waiting to be released into the world again. All around her the ground quaked and all she could think of was revenge.

  She sent out the hatred and the betrayal and the bloodlust and let it wrap around the nearest souls who could feel it. Some were nearby, in this very cave. They were few, but they were drunk on the bile of her fury. Some were farther out, on the streets of the city up north. Gripping their fingers into fists and feeding off the burning of her tendrils. Fist fights erupted somewhere in the caves and wet skin slapped the pavement in the city as one man drove another down to the ground grinding the other’s face with his fist.

  Meat on meat on pavement.

  Bellona grinned with the glory of it all. She would have them spilling blood all the way here and the enemy's children would not be able to stop themselves from feeding on the offering she had provided. Then, the time to strike would come. Her laughter filled the cave and one by one she tore away the metal restraints from each arm and leg and then finally she head-butted the air sending the final collar up into the top of the cave and just nearly missing the chaotic swarm of vampires dotting around like angry flies.

  In Ishan’s body, Bellona rose to her feet and howled out a monstrous screech in the tongue of the ancients.

  The vampires above her stopped as one and ten thousand yellow glowing eyes shined down upon her.

  Chapter 34

  The Baptism of Jesse Murdoch