Blood Song: Division 7: The Berkano Vampire Collection

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  I darted around him and hissed, “Fucking asshole.”

  He snatched at my shoulder, but he was too slow.

  We scrambled down the hallway toward the choir room at the opposite end. Once we’d crossed to the far wall, I ducked us underneath the cover of the hanging blue choir robes with their itchy fabric and white trim and set the girl on her feet.

  “Okay?” I asked, cupping her face to examine the rope burn around her neck.

  She nodded, her dazzling blue eyes searching my own. “Howdy hallelujah.”

  I barked out a laugh that ended with a sob and touched my forehead to hers. We stayed like that for several moments while I clung to her in this stormy sea of the unknown.

  My ears burned for sounds other than our own breaths. If Hendry stomped up to us while we were huddled here, I was crouched at the right level for a nice crotch shot. But again, we couldn’t stay here forever. This church was full of nooks and crannies, but everyone knew about them. Unless I could somehow hide outside once the Berkano left. If they ever left. Something slammed against the roof nearby, as if they would tear down the entire building just to get to us for a witch feast.

  “Hey,” I whispered, smoothing back her matted hair with shaky hands. “Stay here. If anyone other than me comes for you, then run and hide. You’re good at that, right?”

  “The monsters won’t get me,” she said in her scratchy voice, and I wasn’t exactly sure what monsters she meant—the Berkano or the Church of Hangmen.

  “No, they won’t.” I gave her a hand a squeeze, along with a wavering smile, and then dropped to all fours to peer out from under the robes’ hems.

  All clear, which only curled my fingers deeper into the thick carpet fibers. Where was Hendry? He’d seen which way we’d gone when I’d shoved him out of my way. Had he doubled back for some reason instead of following? My gaze ticked from the music stands in the corner, across the practice benches below the boarded-up window, and to the other exit door that led into the blocked off nave. I’d have to double back, too. If I managed to climb over all the cardboard goddesses without killing myself in the junk room, maybe I could find a window that hadn’t been boarded up. The girl and I could find a way to survive outside, hopefully longer than the second our feet touched ground.

  It was a shit plan, but it was the best I could come up with. I pushed to my feet and headed back toward the narrow hallway. As I glanced down to lift my foot to the first step up, a fist shot out from the darkened entryway and smashed into my nose. Pain exploded. Fiery red stars streaked past my eyes, and the floor swept out from underneath me.

  “What did you do?” Allison screamed. “What did you do?”

  She lunged for me from the top step of the hallway before I’d even hit the ground, loose blonde strands from her up-do waving around her ugly scarf. Her red lips peeled back from her teeth. Her outstretched arms tipped with sharp nails bit into my face in a wild attack. But something rock hard broke my fall and tossed me away like a broken doll before she touched me again.

  “Stop!” Hendry yelled. Where had he come from?

  The side of my face had landed on the floor first, followed by the rest of my limbs in a haphazard pile. I blinked into a doorway that hadn’t been open moments ago. My own private sanctuary, the baptismal, the first place anyone who knew me would look. Hendry must’ve snuck in there while we hid behind the choir robes just feet away. I didn’t let my gaze stray too close to them in case I gave the girl’s location away.

  “You are banished from here, you hear me?” Allison spat. “Tell her, Marshall. Tell her.”

  My dad wobbled down the stairs from the hallway, his bum knee pulling a hiss between his teeth. When he saw me lying on the floor, with blood from my nose trailing several streams onto the carpet, his mouth trembled. His eyes shut, and tears leaked from the corners.

  “Why, Fin?” he whispered.

  I pushed to my feet, fixing my glare on everyone in the room, and tipped my voice with an accusation. “Because I’m not a murderer.”

  “Yes, you are,” Allison growled. “You just murdered all of us by not offering a sacrifice to the Berkano. Parts of the church’s roof are now destroyed. All because. Of. You.”

  I flicked my gaze to Dad for confirmation because I didn’t believe a word she ever said. “The nursery?”

  He shook his head, and I breathed his words in deep. Mom was still safe, then.

  “Where is the girl?” Dad asked. “We can still fix this and send the Berkano away with a sacrifice.”

  I stared at him, my dad, now a stranger. How could he think this was okay? Would he not hesitate to hang me either?

  “She won’t say.” Allison stalked closer to me, baring her lipstick-covered horse teeth. “So banish her, Marshall.”

  Behind me and to my right, Hendry pressed in, too, as if between the two of them, stepmother and stepson bullies, they could crush me into a pile of quivering pleas for forgiveness. I refused to give them the satisfaction even though guilt crushed me from the inside out. I lifted my chin, awaiting my fate, while Dad gnawed his lower lip and squeezed the golden-sun amulet hanging from his neck.

  Allison whipped her head around. “Marshall,” she barked.

  Finally, he lifted his gaze from the carpet, and tears shone in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Fin. You have to go. You knew how big of a responsibility this was when you asked to take over as hangman.”

  My death sentence coming from him burned like a slap to the face. It took several moments for me to push out enough air to speak again. “Do I get to say goodbye to Mom?”

  “No,” Allison said. “The last thing we need is to expose everyone to the Rift Curse just so you can say goodbye. The Berkano are still out there. They won’t leave unless we give them a sacrifice. Fin needs to go right now, or we hang her.”

  “My daughter won’t be hanged. I’ll speak to Kit. I know he’ll do it,” Dad said in a voice that made it sound final.

  I’d known Kit since I’d been able to form memories. He used to dress up as a clown to entertain the kids, and I always knew it was him because he’d have paint wedged underneath his fingernails and smell like the same cleaning chemicals he used to scrub the church. And now he would be sacrificed. A human who had nothing to do with the Rift Curse, witches, or vampires in the first place.

  My eyebrows drew together as I tried to understand Dad’s fucked-up logic. He wouldn’t hang me himself, but he was perfectly fine with sending me outside for a long-suffering death at the hands of the Berkano? He’d been brainwashed by this church troll named Allison.

  “Dad, don’t listen to h—” I started.

  “Hendry can lead you somewhere safe. There are more witches out there. Humans, too. I’m sure they’ll take you in, and then after that…” His throat bobbed on a hard swallow, and the sadness in his blue eyes pierced through to my soul. “Survive.”

  “I’ll go tell the congregation,” Allison said. She turned on her heel toward the door that led to the nave. “Hendry, don’t let her out of your sight. Coming, Marshall?”

  Dad ducked his head and followed like an abused dog with his tail between his legs. He stepped out of the choir room first, and as soon as he disappeared, Allison turned back with a gleeful smile stretching her lips.

  “You won’t make it a day out there,” she hissed.

  “Why the fuck do you hate me so much?” I snapped at her back, but she ignored me. It couldn’t be just my lack of church tongue. It had to be something else, like what I did six years ago, even though that had ruined my life, not hers. Because she’d banished me from the kitchen to preparing baths in the baptismal, it wasn’t like I had time to turn crosses upside down or quote scripture backward. She had no reason to hate me.

  I spun toward the baptismal door, but Hendry stepped in to block my way, his fierce hazel gaze catching mine. Something flickered across them at the same rate that his whiskered jaw clenched.

  “Where’s the girl?” he asked.

  He was
supposed to take me somewhere safe. Knowing the games his mother played, he’d probably lead me directly into a Berkano nest. I backed away toward the hallway, then turned and gave him the finger over my shoulder. Hopefully he would think I was pointing and climb up on the roof with the vampires to check if the girl was there.

  Minutes later, I was shepherded into the baptismal with a guard outside the closed door. The pounding outside and the shivering foundation had stopped, and I knew Kit must be dead. I forced out a slow breath, my skin heating with shame. If I hadn’t screwed up so thoroughly, he would still be alive.

  The next morning, I stood facing the front doors with my hands at my sides, loose, controlled, like I did while singing. I wore the same thing I’d worn yesterday—a black shirt with fishnet sleeves, black tights, and black boots—because they’d once belonged to Mom.

  I’d asked once again if I could go to the nursery to say goodbye to her, but Allison had answered for Dad. So, I’d just stood there while he hugged me, whispering to me all the rules I already knew about the Berkano—no talking, stay out of the shadows, don’t go out at night, survive. All of his betrayals in the last several hours sparked fire through my veins. I didn’t even know who he was anymore.

  The gears on the locks of the front door slowly cranked open. A cold sweat broke over my forehead. Bile made a steady climb to singe the back of my throat, but I fought it down.

  Hendry stepped up next to me, his face as impassive as ever, a black bag slung over his shoulder with sharp corners poking through the fabric. I carried nothing. No water, no food, no supplies of any kind because I’d been restricted to the baptismal for the night with a guard posted outside the door. I could only hope Hendry’s bag was for me. Otherwise, Allison’ s prediction that I wouldn’t last a day might just come true.

  I turned to him and opened my mouth to ask, but he beat me to it.

  “Keep up,” he said, his gaze trained on the final lock.

  When it clicked, the doors swished open on silent hinges. Sunlight pounded down, glowing impossibly bright, and I threw up my arm to block it. It had been so long since I’d seen the sun. To finally see it today, on a day that would haunt me for an eternity, seemed wrong. The brightness flared painful red orbs behind my eyelids. A shadow darkened the doorway for a split second and then was gone outside. Hendry, I realized when I cracked an eye open. And I couldn’t see where he went.

  I turned and blinked behind me to where Dad and Allison stood, but I couldn’t even see that they were there. The faint smell of magic permeated the air, a strong floral scent that belonged to Allison. Had she just put a spell on me?

  Someone shoved me roughly forward, across the church’s threshold and outside into the Australian city called Perth, nicknamed Tombstone because death ruled the outside.

  The door slammed behind me, sealing me off from the safety the church provided, and left me to survive the Berkano vampires.

  Chapter 2

  It took several precious seconds for my eyes to adjust to the brutal sunlight without blinding me with tears. But once they did, I grasped at the air as if to wipe this new horror away. Weeds twisted through what was once the church parking lot, snaking in through broken windows of rusted cars and almost totally camouflaging others.

  I didn’t see Hendry anywhere.

  I drew in a deep breath and held it, searching the weeds, cars, and the street beyond for movement. I didn’t even know what the Berkano vampires looked like, but I would probably find out soon enough.

  With my heart sprinting ahead, I tiptoed off the porch and sped my steps toward the west wing where a ladder leaned against the church’s roof. Large chunks of that part of the building had caved in years ago from flooding, but not the nursery where we kept Mom and some classrooms at the innermost section of the wing.

  I kept going on quiet feet, searching for Hendry. It was kind of ironic that the cars I passed likely still had the keys inside the church somewhere, but where else would we go? The church was a safe place when we followed through on our sacrifices. We had electricity, running water, and plenty of food, too. It was the kind of place no one ever wanted to leave. Including me.

  More than halfway to the ladder that led up to the church roof, a terrible shriek pebbled goose bumps up my spine. I froze, trying to hear anything more over the blood thundering between my ears.

  Hendry appeared from at the edge of the roof on the west wing. He stopped when he saw me, then looked over his shoulder toward the nave.

  Our sacrifices were always placed outside the kitchen door afterward, which was on the opposite side of where we were now. No one knew why exactly the Berkano required a monthly sacrifice or what they did with the bodies afterward. When the Rift happened, Dad had a vision, sent to him by Sandreka the sun goddess, of a noose. The hanging ritual worked because the Berkano would always leave us in peace. I assumed they drained the blood from the bodies left for them. Maybe that was their only food source, since few people braved the outside.

  But if Kit was hanged last night, then the vampires would have stolen him away already. It was daylight now, but I supposed there was enough shadow for them to be near. Maybe they somehow knew I’d botched last night’s sacrifice and were coming for me. My insides squirmed, and my feet itched to race back to the church door and beg them to let me back in.

  Allison was right. I wouldn’t survive a day out here, because the only witch spell I knew was how to make things smell differently, bad or good. Other than that, I could sing, and in a world where the “no talking” rule had been drilled into my head since birth, singing likely wouldn’t fly too well out here. I knew jack about survival, so as the chief hangman’s daughter, maybe I should’ve considered that fact during last night’s ritual. Yet even if I’d thought more about the consequences, I doubted I would have changed what I’d done.

  I lifted my foot for another step, but movement from the roof paused it midair. Hendry flashed his arm out and shook his head before turning once again toward something I couldn’t see.

  He spread his fingers wider on his outstretched arm and backed up so the heel of his cowboy boot bit into the very edge of the roof. Was he debating whether to turn us back around? A cold chill clenched around my chest. Whatever was happening might be because of what I didn’t do last night. Could the Berkano know somehow that the girl who was meant to die didn’t?

  I stood still, quieting my breaths, watching.

  What could make Hendry back away from something in the first place? He was built like a building. When members of his hunting party didn’t return, I always assumed he’d murdered them. Yes, I shouldn’t make assumptions about someone I didn’t even know, but it sure seemed a legit reason why the loner guy who never spoke a word to me before today was a one-man party.

  Don’t fuck up, he’d said.

  I’d done much more than that.

  Several seconds later, he jerked his head for me to follow once again and then disappeared across the roof. With my teeth on edge, I sped my pace until I stepped into the bed of a rusty old pickup truck that had been backed into the parking space. The ladder rose from the tail end, wedged into place by a pile of cinder blocks.

  I lifted my hands to a rung and climbed. After I’d hauled myself up, I squinted into the morning sun and took in my surroundings. Stretching to my right for maybe thirty feet was a giant hole. Almost the entire west wing looked as if it had been picked apart from the topside down. Thick wires poked from stained, crumbling walls inside Sunday school rooms I’d spent my childhood in.

  The one I peered down into had a broken treehouse inside it, its support beams hanging loose so it looked as if it were bending over like a cardboard goddess. Outside its lower door was the giant blue beanbag that was always losing its stuffing and that would catch us when we jumped off the top like five-year-old kamikazes. Now, the beanbag held a stagnant brown pool. And my kamikaze friends were all gone, either hanged, participating in one of Hendry’s never-come-home hunting parties, or just m
ysteriously…gone.

  I sidestepped the room below on the soggy foot of ceiling not yet destroyed and rushed across to another ladder. This one lay flat to connect to the roof of the next building over. Magic flared up from it in glowing white embers and laced the air with a cocoa and ginger scent, a form of magic I’d never smelled before. Since my magic was scent, I was particularly sensitive to odors and their ability to kick my memories to the forefront of my brain.

  I glanced around for Hendry or whatever he’d been concerned with earlier, but I saw no sign of him. The sun’s harsh rays beat into my back as I crossed the ladder on all fours, causing sweat to make my clothes cling to places they really shouldn’t. My tongue already felt like it had swelled in size, but I had no water, no supplies. Hendry had taken it all with him, if the contents of his black bag were even for me. He’d told me to keep up, and oh, I would keep up all right. My boot would keep up his ass until he belched leather. No wonder everyone on his hunting parties died.

  On and on I went, roof after roof, road after road, crossing longer ladders or wooden planks held aloft by the same cocoa and ginger scented magic.

  Up here, there were fewer shadows to hide the Berkano than the streets below because the trees were sparse and the buildings were usually about the same height. When the buildings weren’t or the rooftops were sloped, ladders had been magically secured in the right spots to get over easily. Traveling over roofs like this was the ultimate game of “lava floor and snapping crocodiles,” or so I told myself.

  Finally, I spotted Hendry across a narrow street on top of a three-story building. Long boards protruded from a few of the upper windows. He crouched low, the sun highlighting the reddish hue in his hair, sweat sticking his curls to the side of his head. He tapped his wrist where a watch might’ve been with a scowl tipping his mouth.

  Was he telling me I’d taken too long? Asshole.

  Not only had I earned actual words from him today, but now I was worthy of an admonishing via his own brand of sign language. I stared down at my imaginary watch, too. With my other hand, I raised two fingers, my palm facing me, in the Australian gesture for “Fuck you.”