Shadows of the Midnight Sun

by Graham Brown

  Terrance dug at Drake’s hands.

  “I warned you once,” Drake said. “Tell me what you sense.”

  Before Terrance could speak, the drums stopped beating. Silence swept through the door and into the old room like a cold wind. Only the crackle of bonfires remained.

  “Go…see…for…yourself,” the voodoo priest managed.

  Drake let go and stood up. Terrance rolled onto his side, choking and gasping for air.

  Drake left him there and walked to the door. Now, finally, he felt a presence. Something that triggered feelings very unlike those he got when other Nosferatu were near. With a sense of destiny filling his dead soul, Drake stepped through the door and out into the night.

  CHAPTER 49

  KATE AND Billy Ray were in a car, racing at top speed along an empty street on the outskirts of New Orleans. Reports from the satellite team had the suspect hitting a marina and taking a boat onto Lake Maurepas.

  They charged into the same marina and skidded to a stop.

  Kate got on the radio. “We’re at the marina.”

  “The suspect’s on the water, heading northwest on the lake. After that, it’s just swamp. Not sure what he’s doing. Once he gets across, there’s nothing but swampland and a winding river that cuts through it. He has fifteen minutes on you.”

  “What about the chopper?” Kate asked.

  “We had to round up a sharpshooter. The chopper will be wheels up as soon as he’s on board.”

  “And the rest of the troops?”

  “On their way,” the chief said. “It’s your call if you want to wait. We can track the guy from here.”

  “Unless he goes for a swim,” Kate said.

  Billy Ray nodded. “I’m with you. This is our best chance.”

  “Have the backup teams cut off any exits,” she said into the radio. “We’re grabbing a boat.”

  The rental shack showed little signs of life. Considering the hour, Kate figured they’d have to kick in the door. She pounded on it once.

  To her surprise, it opened. Standing before them was a scruffy-looking guy with spiked hair and a three nose rings.

  Kate flashed her badge. “We need a boat.”

  “A fast boat,” Billy Ray added.

  “You guys chasing the lunatic with the spear?”

  “A spear?” Kate said.

  “Yeah. He came running through here with a spear, and I thought, ‘Damn, this guy is some kind of wacko or something.’”

  The guy was stoned like a Rastafarian on holiday. But Kate didn’t doubt what he’d said.

  “Can it get any stranger?” Billy Ray wondered.

  “Not sure we really want to know,” she said.

  The rental guy grabbed a set of keys and threw them at Billy Ray.

  “Which boat?” Kate asked.

  “The blue one on the end—it’s the fastest one I’ve got.”

  Christian reached the far side of Lake Maurepas and the edge of the swamp. Finding the narrow channel that cut through it took only a minute, and soon he was racing up the slender river as fast as he possibly could.

  Finding Drake would be the easy part. But then what?

  As he grew closer, the calling became so loud that his whole body felt as if it were shaking. He clutched the Staff of Constantine as a counterweight to the effect—pain to distract him from the pleasure. It left him numb, operating solely on determination and willpower. The strength of his mind, that was all he had left.

  He began to smell smoke. In the far distance, he saw firelight through the trees. He turned the boat toward the shore, cut off its noisy engine, and coasted into the muddy bank.

  He could hear drums now and feel the pull of the ceremony like the undertow from a great wave drawing him in.

  And then, suddenly, the calling ceased, and Christian’s mind cleared.

  He had no idea what was happening, but he didn’t like it. He sensed time was running out. He jumped off the boat and began to run toward the flickering light.

  CHAPTER 50

  THE DRUMMERS stood exhausted in the humid night air, their hands blistered and raw, their brows dripping with sweat. They seemed surprised at their surroundings. With their minds released from Drake’s grasp, they stared blankly, like sleepwalkers woken from a dream.

  Drake ignored them. He scanned the trees around the clearing. Everything seemed to be moving in the flickering light. A force of life stronger and more potent than the mere human chattel around him had drawn near. The angel was out there, just beyond his view.

  He walked into the circle of the living, his boots scuffing the circle of ashes that divided it from the outside world. Within it, a naked woman stood with her man—Terrance’s disciples. Young, virile, and passionate, their dance had ended with the drums.

  “Leave,” Drake said.

  They scampered off, and Drake turned slowly. He held out his hands, palms up and empty. “We wait for you,” he boomed. “If you’ve come for us, there’s no reason to hide.”

  He glanced toward a dilapidated building across from the juke hall. “Bring Vivian to me.”

  One of his slaves appeared in the doorway, leading Vivian down the cracked wooden stairs. Chained, shackled, and scarred, she looked bedraggled and skeletal, more like a neglected animal than the woman Terrance had once loved or the queen Drake had cultivated her to be.

  As if to see her, Terrance came to the door of the juke hall, leaning on Bella’s arm.

  “Begin the chant,” Drake said to one of the drummers.

  The drummer struck his instrument a single time. A low boom echoed across the night, dying just as the drummer hit the skin once again. He kept that rhythm, slow and heavy.

  Boom…boom…boom….

  Each stroke was harder and deeper, each echo longer, until it seemed they were on top of one another.

  Drake looked to Vivian. “Come to me.”

  The slave released her chains, and Vivian obeyed her master. She stepped into the circle and moved toward Drake.

  At that very moment, a figure appeared at the edge of the tree line. The figure was cloaked like a monk—its face hidden beneath the shade of the hooded sweatshirt, its arms folded and crossed in front, its hands hidden inside the cuffs.

  Drake could feel the power of the approaching figure, the power of life, of love, of redemption—things he wanted no part of. They were attributes of the weak and needy. But Vivian seemed to feel them also. She seemed to want them. She raised her head, looking toward this being.

  Drake sensed that she’d do anything to be human again, to feel, to love, and to be rid of him as her master. The angel seemed drawn to her, as if it could feel her pain.

  Perfect.

  He took a step back. As he did, the hooded figure took a halting step forward. It moved cautiously, like a newborn foal on unsteady legs.

  Drake took another step back, and the figure moved forward again, matching his rhythm, keeping its hidden face toward Vivian.

  Soon, Drake thought. Very soon.

  Kate held on to the dashboard of the boat as the wind and spray whipped past. They’d made it across the lake and were now following the narrow river through the swamp. Kate kept track of their location on a GPS receiver. In her other hand, she held a radio.

  “How much farther?” Billy Ray asked.

  She repeated the question into the radio.

  The regional director’s voice cut through the static. “We’re downloading the suspect’s last position to your GPS right now. Just so you know, we’ve lost him in the foliage. You’re on your own, unless he pops up again.”

  “Terrific,” Kate said sarcastically. “What happened to ‘He won’t get away this time’?”

  “Trees are a problem,” she was told.

  She waited for the GPS to refresh. When it did, a red line appeared over the screen.

  “Five miles,” she said.

  “I don’t get it,” Billy Ray said. “What’s he running this way for?”

  “Maybe h
e’s looking for a place to hide and lay low,” Kate guessed. She held the radio close to her mouth to block the wind. “Anything up here?”

  “Not much,” the director said. “A couple of old plantations that were flooded out fifty years ago. A few abandoned shacks here and there. According to the SAT team, there are a few heat sources up ahead. They register as large bonfires.”

  “Death cults and bonfires,” Billy Ray said. “Great.”

  Kate checked the sky behind them. “Where’s the chopper?”

  “Spooling up now,” the chief said. “It’ll be on-site in fifteen minutes. Suggest you wait until then before moving in. We also have a makeshift tactical team heading your way. State troopers are going to block the roads out, and the tactical team will move in from the southwest. They’re twenty minutes behind you.”

  “Well, that’s something, at least,” Billy Ray said.

  Fifteen minutes for the chopper, Kate thought. Twenty before the arrival of any backup.

  She turned to Billy Ray. “If something is going down up there, fifteen minutes is gonna be a lifetime,” she said. “I don’t want to wait like I did before.”

  Billy Ray nodded and kept the boat’s throttle pegged.

  Kate put the radio to her mouth. “Get everyone here as fast as you can,” she said. “We’re gonna crash the party as soon as we get there.”

  Christian was picking his way through the trees. The gash in his leg from the fight with the hunters was taking its toll on him, but anger and desire pushed him forward. He sensed Drake up ahead, but heard nothing in his mind, as if Drake was so focused on the task at hand that he didn’t feel Christian coming.

  Now, he thought, this is my chance.

  He pressed forward, but suddenly found himself surrounded. Two figures appeared in front of him and one to either side. A fifth came around from behind. Drones. Lying in wait.

  They roared like animals and then rushed in.

  Christian thrust the spear forward, impaling the first of the demons. A second drone swung an ax for his neck. Christian ducked and the ax head plunged into the thick wood of an oak tree. Christian sidestepped the beast and plunged the spear into the creature’s back. It dropped to the ground and burst into flames, along with the first one.

  He yanked the spear out of the dying beast and swung, just in time to deflect a blow from a third member of the group.

  A fourth attacker almost got him, but Christian dropped down and swept its legs out from underneath it. Before the beast could hit the ground, Christian gave him a roundhouse kick, sending him flying toward another of his kind.

  With a moment to breathe, Christian stepped back and whirled the staff into a ready position.

  There was a long pause as the simple minds of these animals studied the situation. Two of their brothers were dead and burning, another lay gasping for air on the forest floor, and their foe carried a weapon that even these most brainless of creatures recognized.

  Christian noticed their hesitation. He moved forward, brandishing the weapon of the Ignis Purgata. His arms trembled and burned as the razor-sharp edges of the spear begged the drones to challenge him.

  They stepped back in unison.

  “Leave,” he growled.

  Their minds broke down. They turned, running into the shadowy recesses of the bayou. The way now clear, Christian raced forward.

  CHAPTER 51

  IN THE clearing, Drake continued to back off slowly. As he left the circle of ash, the hooded figure moved around it. It focused on Vivian as the fires flickered and the drum continued its heavy beat.

  Vivian looked up, her hands in chains, her beaten and broken body waiting and longing to be freed. Drake could feel the desire inside her, the desire for peace. He could not have planned this better.

  The angel drew near to Vivian and stopped.

  It was almost too easy now. Under Drake’s long black coat, he griped his sword, ready to slice this angel’s throat.

  The hooded figure stopped. Vivian inched toward it, like an animal in unfamiliar surroundings. Drake’s grip on the samurai sword tightened.

  The figure held still, all but hovering over Vivian.

  What is it waiting for?

  Much like the stare of the Nosferatu, the angel was foretold to have mesmerizing powers. Drake could not trust himself to face it alone. He could not look it in the eye and have it gaze into his soul. If it did, he might falter. He might crave what Vivian was now longing for, or he might be smote down by power he did not understand.

  To steal its strength, he needed the angel to be engaged with another. He needed it to be distracted and defenseless.

  Patience, he told himself. Patience.

  Finally, the angel stretched out a hand.

  Vivian looked up as if awaiting communion.

  Drake inched forward.

  Vivian’s shoulders slumped, her posture softened as if she were relaxing, finally beginning to let go of the pain she’d felt for so many years. Her eyes closed, and she began to tilt her head back as if feeling the release. He could sense her drifting.

  Now, Drake thought.

  He rushed in across the circle of ash, raising the sword.

  The angel spun around. The hood covering its face dropped.

  Instead of kindness, Drake saw pain. Instead of peace, he saw anger, vengeance, and a woman’s face, twisted with scars. It shocked him enough to throw him off-balance.

  The woman raised a stone dagger and thrust it toward him. Only his great speed allowed Drake to knock the dagger free.

  She spat at him, and his rage flared. He thrust his free hand to her neck and lifted her off the ground, forcing her to look into his eyes.

  “Elsa,” he said, finally recognizing her, “the years have not been kind to you.”

  She laughed, a sickly sound coming from her constricted throat. “How wrong you are,” she said. “I’ve lived long enough to foresee your destruction.”

  “We both know that is but a mere possibility,” Drake said. “But if you were truly gifted, you would have foreseen your own death at my hands.”

  “I have,” she said, “and I welcome it.”

  Drake ignored her wordplay. He was looking into her eyes, seeing past her hatred to the things she loved. Yes, Christian, of course, but what else?

  She began to squirm. “No…”

  “Release it,” he commanded.

  “No!”

  He pressed his full weight onto her, using the powers of his mind to force the image from where she’d hidden it.

  She’d seen the angel. She’d met with him and warned him off. Told him to hide. But now her mind had betrayed him. Drake saw the angel’s face, felt the aura of its power. With that alone, he could seek out this being. It was weaker than he’d thought. It was afraid and confused.

  “You have given me more than I could have dreamed,” he said, raising his sword.

  “Let her go!” a voice bellowed.

  Drake spun around, holding Elsa’s frail body in front of him.

  Christian stood at the edge of the clearing, with the fires of determination in his eyes like Drake had never seen before. He appeared to be injured, but in his hands was a weapon that had taken so many of Drake’s children.

  “So you side with the enemy, after all,” he said.

  Christian moved closer, circling to the left.

  “Let her go,” Christian said again. “This is our destiny, our fight. Not hers. Let her go, and we’ll finish this together!”

  Drake smiled. “I have a better idea,” he said. “Deal with your brothers first.”

  As Drake spoke, new shapes came forth from the shadows. First was Kwese, next was Lagos, and then Xi. Last of all came Anya. They took up separate positions, one of them at each point of the compass, with Christian caught in the middle.

  CHAPTER 52

  CHRISTIAN STOOD in the clearing, caught between the bonfires of life and death, caught in the middle, as he’d been for so many centuries.

&nbs
p; Christian glanced at the new arrivals, sizing them up. Though he’d once been part of the Brethren, these were not his brothers. And while they would kill him on Drake’s command, they knew nothing of honor and loyalty. They would not die for each other, as the men of the legions had once done.

  Drake wanted them to rush Christian together, converging on him at once, but he’d miscalculated his own power structure. The hope among these Brethren was that the others would die first in the effort, and then they would clean up at the end, finishing Christian and soaking up the glory.

  It made them weak. It made them divisible. So fully did Christian now understand the difference that he didn’t hesitate for an instant.

  He lunged first at Kwese, twirling the spear in his hands and bringing it down toward the big man’s head. Kwese blocked it and tried to rip it from Christian’s grasp, but Christian spun in the opposite direction and brought the back end of the staff into Kwese’s chest. It hammered his center mass, cracking his sternum and sending the huge man falling helplessly backward.

  Anya rushed in next, the two daggers twirling in her hands. Christian ducked, spun, and swept her legs out from under her. She jumped to her feet, but a kick from Christian’s boot sent her tumbling backward.

  “Kill him!” Drake shouted.

  Lagos and Xi were circling the perimeter. They charged from opposite sides.

  Christian pivoted and twirled the staff in both hands. Both blows were deflected.

  Xi dove to the ground, rolled, and came up hacking at Christian’s leg. Christian stabbed the head of the staff into the ground, blocking Xi’s swing and using the staff like a pole vault. He leapt over Xi and came down behind him.

  Xi turned just as the diamond-shaped tip of the staff plunged into his chest.

  He wrapped his hands around the staff and released a hideous cry as he slumped to his knees. His arms fell to the sides, and flames engulfed him.

  With that, the humans around the clearing broke out of their trances. They began to run and scatter. Bella grabbed Terrance and dragged him off.