“Do we even have enough time to walk there and back by noon?”
“Not if we keep standing around talking, Father.”
He pointed his finger at me and shook it, before giving way to a grin. Then he noticed the crossbow on the table. He picked it up and studied it. His eyebrows rose, and he stared at me. “If I had to wager, son, I’d say Roy carved this himself.”
I nodded.
Penelope looked impressed. “Just by looking at it, you know who made it?”
Father smiled. “He’s a master woodworker and craftsman. None better. Where’d you happen upon this, son?”
“Bought it from the man who drew the two maps.”
“I see.” He stared at me with sudden uneasiness.
I knew what he was thinking without even asking. Roy had gifted my Hunter box to me, refusing to accept anything in return since he considered his craftsmanship the most suitable donation to aid the Chosen in their pursuit of slaying vampires. A disease cursed him from setting foot in the sunlight, so he housed himself underground where he diligently worked on weapons for Hunters to eradicate the undead.
Most likely, Roy had gifted this crossbow to a Hunter. Since the Hunter no longer possessed it, he was probably dead.
Father put on his overcoat and limped toward the door. “Madeline, we will return as quickly as possible.”
She nodded. “Be careful.”
Penelope walked to the bedside and handed her an opal. “In case we don’t get back before the noon hour to checkout, give this gem to the keeper as payment. It’s more than enough to compensate for the rest of the day, if necessary.”
“Thank you.”
“Barter for some food, too,” she said with a sly smile.
I met Father at the door. “I need to get my Hunter box from the coach.”
He patted his pockets and his lips formed a snarl from his frustration. “I left my cross and stakes in the coach, too.”
We hurried out of the inn. When we reached the coach, I twisted the handle downward as quietly as possible, hoping not to awaken Thomas. The door creaked slightly as I pulled it outward. I reached inside, grabbed the handle of my box, and pulled it to me without scraping the floor.
After I stepped aside, Father leaned inside the coach and patted under the seat until he found his silver cross and his bundled stakes. He picked up Penelope’s pack and bow and turned to hand them to her. She smiled as she took them. Several feathered ends of arrows protruded from the top of the pack.
The wind whistled softly through the barren trees at what appeared to have been a park, possibly before the war. I carried my box to a round, frozen water fountain and set the box on the icy brick wall. When I unlatched the clasps, Penelope was standing at my side. I never heard her approach.
I put the fresh bottles of garlic juice into the box. The garlic odor lofted.
She reached into my box and took out a bottle of blessed salt. “This stuff works on vampires, too?”
I shrugged. “I’ve never used it. Supposedly a salt barrier can drive a vampire to insanity since they must count every grain. Sounds farfetched to me.”
“Some vampires are insane to begin with,” she said. “I’ve heard older women talk about how fairies have to count the grains, too.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve seen fairies,” I said.
“No, but I’m hopeful.” She leaned against me, bumping against my ribcage with her shoulder. “By drawing the proper symbols inside a circle of salt, I can trap a demon.”
“That works?”
Penelope shrugged. “It’s supposed to. I’ve not tried it yet, but the healer told me how and drew the diagram for me.”
“This is the same healer that accidentally summoned a demon during one of her rituals?”
She nodded.
“With such a dreadful error in her incantation, I don’t know that I’d trust her drawing to trap a demon. It might agitate it more.”
A slight giggle escaped her lips. “I see your point. I’ve only killed demons from a distance, which I consider much safer and keeps me scar free. Besides, it takes a lot of salt to draw the circle and the symbols.”
I pulled six short narrow arrows from the box, examining the sharpened tips by pressing my thumb against them. All seemed sturdy.
“You were already carrying arrows without a crossbow?” she asked.
“Only because these are unique.”
“Oh? In what way, dear Hunter.” She beamed a playful smile at me, clasping her hands together at her chest and swaying toward me. Her dramatic actions reminded me of a play Father and I had watched before leaving London. It appeared she had seen the same one, but her feigned actions were better than the actors we had seen.
I gave her an odd look.
“What?”
“Theater?”
She laughed. “Sorry. I can get silly when I feel nervous.”
“You’re nervous?”
“I’ve never helped slay a vampire before. But why are those arrows unique?”
I explained the enchanted shrubbery in London and how the Gypsy witch had blessed them to attack and stake vampires.
“And you plan to use those in the crossbow against this vampire?”
“I’m hopeful,” I said with a grin.
Father held the map and faced south where only frames of buildings remained. Burnt skeletons of once thriving trees displayed the sorrow of their deaths when whatever troops had come through scorching the terrain. The old cobblestone road was covered by dried weeds and bramble and was barely visible.
Father lowered the map and pointed. “We follow the old road to find the cemetery.”
I snapped the latches shut on my box and hefted it, grabbing the loaded crossbow in my other hand. “I’m ready.”
Penelope nodded and followed behind me. We walked past Father, and he took up the rear.
We didn’t walk long before the remnants of the old road eroded into broken rocks, large holes, and thicker thorny bramble. Dry brittle strands of ivy threaded together overhead forming a thick canopy of vines and dead leaves, deepening the shadowy gloom that shrouded the path into near darkness. Between the heavily overcast sky and the darkened trees, one would believe it was dusk, even though we had yet to reach the noon hour.
Although I didn’t express my sudden concern, I recalled what Jacques had told me almost a year earlier about how a vampire can move during the day provided the sun was somehow fully blocked. Some vampires were even capable of controlling mists and fog, as I had learned in London. The elements of the weather and our surroundings were more than favorable for this vampire to emerge from hiding and attack us before we even reached the cemetery or his lair.
However, worse things loomed that none of us had even considered.
Chapter Twelve
The closer to the cemetery we walked, the worse the terrain became. No longer were the thin vines draped, connecting overhead and between the trees, but giant thick thorns capable of impaling a man grew on black treelike branches that spiraled around one another to form a wicked tunnel. Such could have only been brought to life by the curse of a vindictive witch.
An oppressive cloud of misery overshadowed me, draining me of hope and driving me toward despair. Whispers taunted me, drawing me toward one of the sharpened thorns, trying to persuade me to ram my chest against it and pierce my heart. I resisted, but the mental image of one of these black thorns staked through my heart while a widening pool of blood spread beneath my suspended body looked terrifyingly realistic. I wanted to think of pleasant thoughts, memories, anything except such a grueling death, but my mind was frozen upon this depiction of an unpleasant fate.
After a few seconds, I took another step into the narrowing tunnel. The pattern of the interwoven branches, thorns, and the never-ending spiral was mesmerizing, making me dizzy. I shook my head, trying to steady my next step, hopeful that I didn’t fall against one of the sharp thorns. Because of the thickness of the coiled vines and the countless
thorn tips, no alternate path existed. A small child couldn’t press through the sides of this deadly tunnel wall. It was either continue forward or turn back. But my mind pressed me to go forward. Chattering whispers buzzed near my ears, as annoying as mosquitoes seeking blood, and urged me to sacrifice my life’s blood, but offering no reason for such martyrdom.
Whatever sensation was pricking at my mind, was trying to overwhelm and control me, but a vampire wasn’t causing it, I was certain of that, since none had ever been able to compel me. This tunnel had been formed by magic. I detected it, and it was far darker than any spells I had encountered before. Once I realized what was beckoning me to end my life, I was better able to resist.
I reached into my pocket and found the blessed protective talisman Matilda had given me in London. I rubbed it between my thumb and forefinger. Energy tingled against my skin. The evil whispering chants lessened but didn’t completely dissolve.
A hand grabbed my elbow and tugged. I spun around.
Penelope stood, looking at me. “You feel the overpowering darkness, too?”
I nodded. The feeling was everywhere.
“Close your eyes,” she said.
I did. Sharp pellets struck my face and bounced off my leather hat like sleet. I opened my eyes. She held out a handful of the blessed salt.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“The salt should break the oppressive spell that’s overshadowing us. Hold out your hand.” She poured some of the salt into my hand. “Eat it.”
I placed the salt on my tongue and let it dissolve. The uneasiness cocooned around me, and the whispers suddenly dispelled.
Penelope hurried to my father and placed salt on his tongue. After his eyes indicated he was aware of his surroundings, she returned to me. “Forrest, the cemetery isn’t haunted like the people have told the old man. They walked into this oppressive wall of anguish. But whoever placed the curse here didn’t do it to keep people out. It’s here to keep the vampire trapped inside the cemetery.”
“Even without the overpowering spell of gloom, I doubt he’d chance coming through these thorns. He could easily stake himself.”
“I think that’s the intent,” Father whispered. “Some of the dreadful thoughts that came to mind … I’ve had better nightmares and drunken hallucinations.”
“I agree.” I glanced to each of them. “Are you ready to continue or should we turn back?”
Father sighed. “My head’s clear now. I’m ready.”
“You?” I asked her.
“Of course. I realized what was happening before either of you.”
I leaned toward her, pressed my cheek against hers, and whispered, “Thank you.”
She turned her face slightly and kissed my cheek. “You’re welcome. But we’re not in the cemetery yet. Who knows what else lies ahead.”
“Always the pessimist, aren’t you?” I said with an even smile.
“When it comes to vampires and demons, it’s better to be cautious than carefree.”
“That’s true.”
I turned back toward the path. Since the other Hunter had threatened my life, I couldn’t shake the feeling of the price I’d have to pay for keeping Varak alive. And with what had just happened, I feared this was only the beginning. I wanted to turn back, but we needed the bounty for this vampire. It would take weeks of menial labor to earn a fraction of the reward money. With plague demons after Thomas, and the Hunter or Hunters searching for me, we didn’t have time to sacrifice. We needed to reach Freiburg quickly.
Chapter Thirteen
The strange whispering vanished, at least for me, but the dark tunnel narrowed. I took each step more cautiously, watching the shallow shadow recesses and expecting something to lash out and attack or latch onto my leg and pull me into the thorns. I attempted to make my body smaller, which made walking more difficult.
While the narrowing tunnel was dark, we didn’t need a lantern to see our way. Occasionally shreds of clothing or leather hung from the tips of the thorns where others had passed too closely. I wondered how many had braved the steps this far into the passageway. Like Karl had said, desperate people were willing to put their lives on the line when they lacked food or if they had hungry children.
The thorn-encrusted tunnel twisted in a slight curve toward the right. It seemed we had walked forever, and still we had not seen the first tombstone. The tunnel had come into existence long after the cemetery had been established because no one in their right mind would have troubled themselves to travel through here to bury the dead. But the longer we walked, the more I wondered if this tunnel even ended at a cemetery. Like Father and I had questioned the shortness of the map, the route to the cemetery had seemed too easy on paper. Nothing Karl had told us or drawn even indicated this winding, dangerous path.
I stopped and faced Penelope and Father. “You two okay?”
They nodded.
“You want to turn back?” I asked.
Penelope glanced to my Father.
He shrugged. “I’m not tired, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“No, Father, that’s not why I’m asking. We’ve moved at such a slow pace that none of us should be weary. I’m wondering if we missed something before we got into this passageway.”
“You think there’s another way into the cemetery?” she asked.
“The winding branches forming this tunnel aren’t an accident,” I said.
Penelope nodded. “I told you they are here to keep the vampire inside the cemetery and prevent him from escaping.”
“I agree. But that means someone is using magic to keep this vampire as a prisoner. But why?”
“Maybe,” Father said. “But if he cannot get out to feed, he might be withered inside his crypt and unable to defend himself. An easy kill and easy money.”
“If collecting the bounty for this vampire was easy, why hasn’t anyone claimed it yet?”
“The people got frightened and ran out?” Father suggested.
“Possibly some of them did, but I’ve noticed some shredded clothing on the thorns. Some of those people might have made it into the cemetery to face a hungry vampire. They wouldn’t have escaped death.”
“Doesn’t seem anyone died along the path,” Father said. “No skeletons.”
“Unless their bodies were dragged into the cemetery?”
“I don’t know, Forrest,” Penelope said. “While the thorns certainly could keep a vampire trapped, they are also an obvious deterrent to keep humans out. According to Karl, most of them fled and told him and his wife that the place was haunted.”
“With those horrid voices whispering in my head,” Father said, “I’d think so, too, if we hadn’t discover it was a spell. Let’s go a little ways farther, son. If we don’t reach the cemetery, we turn back and pack the coach.”
I nodded.
I turned, holding the crossbow as if I intended to fire. Other than the magic looming around us, I expected something else to appear. “Do you sense any demons, Penelope?”
“I haven’t yet.”
“Could a witch’s magic mask their presence?”
She was silent for several moments while we crept deeper into the dark passageway. “I’ve never heard of it, but I imagine if the witch held dark intentions and was powerful enough, she might be able to control one. I know the healer summoned one.”
“Do you have weapons to use at close range, if a demon emerges?”
“Yes.” She slid her arm through her bow and knelt to look through her pack. She pulled out a dagger. Runic symbols were engraved into the handle and the blade. “This is the best demon killer I have besides my bow. Of course, holy water can work, depending upon the type of demon. Bibles can work, too. Crosses, if you know the proper scriptures.”
“I’m at a loss there,” I said.
She cocked a brow at me and opened her mouth, but I shook my head and interrupted her.
“Let’s not discuss it now. I spend too much time explaining my
views about religion and that is sacred to me. The important question right now is, ‘do you know the proper scriptures?’”
Penelope nodded. “I do, but I’m surprised you don’t. Strange how many of the same weapons work against demons and vampires.”
“I know. Let’s go.”
The tunnel curved back to the left and straightened. Ahead of us light filtered through, where I guessed the exit to this long thorny passageway finally ended. I almost let out a huge sigh of relief when a loud sound echoed from behind us.
“Get out of my head!” the deep harsh voice bellowed.
“Son?” Father said. “Hurry!”
Penelope pushed her hand against my back. “Someone’s coming.”
I glanced over my shoulder but didn’t see anyone in the dark tunnel. But whoever was approaching continued cursing, growling, and he was getting closer. By my guess, he was probably around the bend of the tunnel, but who or what he was, or even his intentions; there wasn’t any way for us to know.
As we approached the faint light, the tunnel widened. I hurried my steps into a slight jog. At the end of the winding branches a rusted gate stood as the last obstacle. I pushed it open, and the hinges whined.
The soil on the other side of the gate was gray. Aged tombstones, some broken, tilted, or shattered, were clustered beneath dark leafless trees forking wicked branches toward the overcast sky. Some of the other tombstones were fashioned with little cherubs or stone vases. Scattered across the graveyard were three stone crypts larger than most cottages. Large menacing statues shaped like angels or hooded clerics held stone swords and daggers as if protectors of the dead, or the undead. Knowing a vampire resided inside one of the three stone crypts made me leery, but it wasn’t dark enough for him to emerge.
I tugged my chained watch from an inner pocket and checked the time. It was three hours until noon. If ever I needed an old Hunter’s intellect to bless me, it was now. The vampire slept inside one of these crypts or possibly even a grave, but I didn’t expect any hints to be given to me. Hunters received guidance but we were never given full knowledge about everything. We were expected to hunt, which was why we were chosen, but being pressed for time, I selfishly desired a pinpointed location. I shook my head. It wasn’t happening. My spiritual Hunter advisors were eerily silent.
Forrest Wollinsky: Predestined Crossroads (Forrest Wollinsky: Vampire Hunter Book 3) Page 8
