Breed: Slayer

by Sandra Seymour

  ‘But you could mate with a trueblood vampire?’ Dillion asks.

  ‘Yeah, right,’ I laugh, ‘except they all want me dead, apart from Quidel, and he’s ancient.’

  Paladins

  I MEANT TO SPEND what remained of the night spying on the vampires, and use the day to further my own plans. I usually only sleep around three hours every couple of days, but after communing with Dillon, I slip into a profound, dreamless sleep. Next thing I know, the guards are back, and leading me to the lab, where Howard is waiting for me.

  As I watch Howard working in the lab, sitting on a bench beside him, swinging my legs, I tell him he doesn’t have much time.

  “Sam is preparing to attack, and he has some pretty bad-ass back up. Paladins, apparently.”

  Howard, mixing chemicals and dropping them onto slides to view under the microscope, looks at me through raised eyebrows, but doesn’t ask how I know, or comment.

  “Isn’t Father Patrick a Paladin?” I push the point.

  “He’s from a different bunch. Around these parts, there is Catholic, then there is CATHOLIC. You have Orthodox, you have Roman, you have Orthodox united with Rome. Then you have factions, and orders within factions. It is all very … Catholic.”

  I grab his notebook, and flick to an empty page, drawing the bulbous cross Father Patrick wears around his neck on one half of the page and the odd shaped one emblazoned on the bearded cleric’s chest on the other.

  “Tell me about these,” I point to the page, “it all begins with these.”

  Howard nods, as if nothing could make more sense. “That,” he taps the bulbous cross, “is a Byzantine Orthodox cross. That one specifically represents the Credinciosi, Father Patrick’s order, sympathetic to the cause. The other is also orthodox, but see how the bottom is pointed? That represents the Calugari.”

  Seeing the lack of recognition on my face, he pauses, I think deciding how much to tell me, or what I most need to know.

  “They are what you call paladins. Warrior monks whose sole aim is to eradicate vampirism in all its forms. It makes sense for them to be at the heart of anything that harms the vampire nation.”

  “Who is he?” I project the image of the monk lighting the pyre, but he shakes his head.

  “I have no idea. I have made it my business to stay as far away from such men as possible, not to discover their names.”

  Silence falls between us as Howard continues his work. I reflect on what he’s told me. I guess if the Calugari are bent on destroying all vampires, living, dead or half-breed, they won’t take too kindly to Father Patrick protecting me. If that’s what’s really at the heart of this war, maybe I can stop it before it gathers momentum.

  If I can get out of here, and find Dillon, we can deal with Sam, and then take the Calugari on. Without them working their subversion behind the scenes, maybe, just maybe, The Breed and The Coven can be persuaded to work out their differences without dragging the whole human race into a downward spiral. It’s a long shot, I know, but it’s all I have. One thing’s sure, I have to get away from here. I’m just going to have to trust Howard to get Libby out.

  “Where are you from, Tatal?”

  I haven’t asked since I was a small child, when his reply was, “From hell.” I’m not sure what makes me ask now.

  He looks at me. I think he’s going to give me the same answer, but finally he says, “Not far from where we lived, actually. It was just a little further south, by the coast. Just a sleepy little village. Well, it was then. I left, to study at the great Gregorian University in Rome, and never made it back for nearly two hundred years. I did not recognize the place when I got home, the estates had all been sold off, and a whole city sprung up around it.”

  “But you weren’t Catholic?”

  “No,” his eyes mist over, “my parents were very, very Protestant. Of course, I had to hide that from the Jesuits. They would never have allowed me to study had they know. They would probably have tried me as a heretic and had me killed.”

  “What was your name? You know, before you became Tornicasa?”

  He tips his head back, his cheeks puff out and he blows the air out of his mouth before he looks back at me.

  “Do you know, Maxi, it has been so long I do not remember. I really was another person then, so young, and so full of zeal.”

  He laughs, lost in a memory. “I fell in with a young nobleman of Rome, and together we travelled to Naples. Many years later, after I began my new life, I assisted him in his endeavours to begin a new life of his own.”

  “But I thought you never turned anyone?”

  “No, no,” he reassures me, a wide grin on his face. “Fortunato was a viscount, and he needed my help to rescue the Contessa, his mother. I forget why, or from whom. Of course, after that, neither of us were welcome in Rome or Naples, and he fled to Germany. He did quite well for himself there, and later in Switzerland, became a protestant himself, as I remember. Ah, those were the days.”

  He shakes his head, and laughs quietly, then changes the subject, becoming tight-lipped and solemn.

  “We are nearly ready. I should not need any more blood for a while. In fact, if everything goes according to plan, I should not need any more at all.”

  “You’ve created the weapon?” I ask, incredulous, “Already?”

  He shrugs. “It will weaken them sufficiently for them to be incapacitated, but not kill. Level the playing field, if you like. Provided they keep their heads and their hearts intact, given time they will recover most of their strength. Keep that to yourself, though. It is the best compromise I can come up with, given the predicament we find ourselves in.”

  “So, what about me?”

  If they don’t need my blood any more, I guess it’s time to make myself scarce.

  “Oh, they have plans for you, Maxi. They want you to lead their army. If you do not agree, they intend to use you as a test subject for their weapons.”

  “Your weapons. No matter. If you’ve got what you need, I’m off.”

  “That will not be so easy, Maxi, even for you,” Howard says, resting his hand on my arm. It’s not an attempt to restrain me, just a gesture of concern.

  “Don’t worry,” I pat his hand, and jump up to leave. “I’ve already made plans. I just needed to make sure you and Libby would be okay first.”

  “Oh, I will be fine, but I am worried about Libby. Could you join her in our quarters?”

  I am not oblivious to the implications of the word “our.” I nod and jump off the bench.

  As I set off to leave, Howard calls out, “Pigott.”

  I turn, my lip curled in confusion.

  “My name. I remember now, it was Pigott.”

  I nod, as I walk out of the lab, trying out the sound. Maxine Piggott? I could get used to it.

  MY VAMPIRE ESCORT is down to two, and one of them gestures for me to follow them. They lead me back past the stone cell, the hole still unrepaired in the wall, and past two more huge iron doors, no doubt with matching interiors.

  We turn down a narrow corridor, it’s walls rough rock. The passage snakes round a series of bends in complete darkness, then opens out onto a pathway. We’re on the other side of the mountain, overlooking the valley, and the cool night breeze is refreshing after so long indoors.

  The wide path slopes off down into the valley, but the vampires take a narrower one that hugs the mountainside. We approach an outcropping rock, but instead of going around it, the vampires stop at a door.

  One of them holds his thumb to a plate in the wall beside it, and an all-too-familiar sickly scent wafts in the air. Although the smell still turns my stomach, I’m surprised to find it takes little effort to control the rising anger and my fangs and talons stay firmly retracted.

  The door slides open and I follow them back into the gloom. After around thirty feet, this corridor turns a sharp corner, and becomes a long, carpeted hallway, with doors every few yards. Around half way down, the vampires stop and gesture for me to ent
er.

  When I open the door to the room, it feels spacious. It’s filled with light from a series of oil lamps arranged around the room, and my eyes burn. I have gotten used to the darkness. With only vampires around me there has been no need for lighting, and it takes a while to adjust my vision. The carpet is a thick red pile, comfortable if not luxurious. A long sideboard stands against the wall in front of the door, and one of the lamps stands on it. Beside it is a large bowl of fruit, grapes flowing gracefully over the rim. Three large windows span the length of the room. In front of the sideboard a small coffee table nestles between a pair of old wooden armchairs. A large four-poster bed with heavy brocade curtains tied to its posts dominates the room beyond, and on the far wall are two doors.

  In the far corner, a chaise lounge nestles beneath the windowsill. Libby is leaning on its back, looking out over the valley, her feet tucked up beneath her on the seat. I close the door softly behind me, and as the latch clicks over the sneck of the lock, she jumps and turns towards me.

  I am not prepared for the change in her. She looks wild and unkempt, her eyes wide and staring, looking straight through me.

  “Regele revine cu vinatorii… Ei vor sa ne omoare… Incepe razboiul aici… El vrea capul tau.”

  She is mumbling gibberish, something about the king and his vinatorii, and that’s another word I know well. It’s what the vampires shout in warning when we attack: “hunters.” There’s more about killing, and war. She is having a series of mixed up premonitions about the battles to come. There is no doubt, looking at her, that the words coming out of her mouth are being channelled through her, rather than originating in her own mind.

  Tilda was right, she is a witch. My powers of vision come from her. I am confused and angry, and the anger blinds me to the details of her prophecies. I cross the room at speed and shake her from her reverie until I’m sure she is with me in the present moment and can recognize me.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I yell at her. “Didn’t you think I needed to know?”

  Libby blinks several times and shakes her head.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were some kind of witch? About your powers, the intuition, the sight, whatever you call it? Why didn’t you ever tell me you ran away from demon-hunting nuns to be with Howard?”

  “No,” Libby shakes her head, “I didn’t. I never met Howard till later. I never knew. I was brought up by the Maici Strigele, an order of Catholic nuns. I heard tales that my grandmother and her grandmother before her had the sight, and the ability to reach into the minds of monsters, from the other children who used to pretend to tie me to a stake to burn.”

  “What happened to your mother?”

  Libby looks at me as if I were speaking a foreign language.

  “She was all but powerless, and she gave me up at birth to the Strigele. She was young, and unwed. That was a very different time. To be Laska, a love child, was to be shameful, unclean, and worthless. I never met any of my family.”

  “But if these Strigele raised you, they must have known what you were.”

  She shakes her head violently. “The nuns never thought I had any ability. They judged me to be copil stearpa, a” barren child,” devoid of magical talent. I was raised with the other orphans, and received no instruction in the matter. To them, I was just a troublesome burden, something to be tamed and chastised lest I turn out like my mother.”

  “And so you ran off with Howard to get away from them?”

  That explains how she could live with a man who revolted her, at least, I suppose. He was just something better than the nuns, a chance at a better life. I feel as though I have swallowed a large stone, the cold dead weight in my gut. So the great and powerful love that drew my parents together and led them to lead such a dangerous life was nothing more than cowardice on both their parts all along? He wanted to hide from the Calugari, and she wanted to escape the Strigele? Is that all it was?

  “I fled to London as a teenager for want of a better life, Maxi,” Her tone is reproachful, as though she knows what I’m thinking, “and as dark as those days were, dancing in my underwear for men to paw at, they were a relief from the austerity and oppression of the Strigele nuns. It was there I met Howard. Such a gentle and understanding soul, and we had you. Only when Howard’s and your lives were threatened did the visions start, but since we have been here, they run like a fever in my brain. This is my homeland. I am surrounded by the enemies my powers are designed to help me overcome.”

  I don’t believe her and I focus on her mind, trying to tell if she is being honest with me. As I do, I feel a falling sensation, as my consciousness is sucked from my body into hers. I know instantly that she is not lying.

  Her whole body is burning with the feeling I get when confronted by a vampire feeding, a mixture of indignation, outrage, and disgust. In her, it has no outlet. Her bones itch with the desire to obliterate her enemies, but she is powerless to act on that desire. I fight the pull of the swirling vortex of her psyche, and force my spirit back into my own head, but the connection is still strong, and her visions continue in my mind’s eye.

  They are cluttered with broken images, of gathering armies, of Sam and the slayers, and of the base here strewn with broken and dismembered bodies. She can’t hold on to her thoughts long enough for me to gain anything from them, other than there are a lot more slayers than I supposed, and they are on their way.

  I grasp her shoulders and bow my head, willing myself to sever the connection. As I snap back into my own head, she shrieks and slumps in my arms. Her brow is covered in sweat, and there are beads of moisture on her upper lip. Her skin feels clammy.

  I lay her on the bed and cover her with a blanket, then leave, but not before grabbing some of the fruit from the bowl the vampires have provided for her. I am starving, and I wonder bitterly why, if they could manage to feed Libby, they could not have remembered to provide a little something for me. What do they think, that I am going to start drinking blood like them now?

  I LEAVE LIBBY and head back down the corridor the way I came, walking freely among the vampires for the first time. When I approach the door to the mountain path, it slides open before me, without me even having to use the thumb plate. It doesn’t occur to me to wonder why. I figure, from the blinking of the violet light, they are watching me from their control room in the tower.

  The answer to the question I should have asked comes soon enough. As I enter the lab coming in from the mountain side, Quidel and Faruk enter from the military compound. I don’t have time to discuss Libby’s condition with Howard before they arrive. I don’t want to bring it up in front of them, and don’t even try to project my thoughts to Howard with Faruk around.

  “Maxine, Howard,” Quidel nods and smiles a not unkind smile.

  I find to my surprise I am actually quite glad to see him, beginning to think of his as a friendly face in this hostile environment.

  Howard and I return his greeting, and Quidel picks up a vial of blue liquid, fluorescing in the dim light of the lab.

  “So this is the result of your experimentation?” He swills the liquid around. It releases a wisp of vapour, and Howard’s shoulders tense, his hands shaking before them in warning. He quickly takes the vial from Quidel.

  “Yes. Please Quidel, be careful with that.” He places it gingerly back on its stand, and covers the neck with a plastic lid. He sighs, then turns back to Quidel. “I am sorry about that. It is harmless to myself and the other Strigoi, and quite deadly against the Cursa, but I have not had time to test its effects on Moroi fully. I should hate for you to be the one to find out.”

  “Quite,” Quidel holds up his hands to signal he has no intention of interfering any further with Howard’s research.

  I feel a stinging annoyance that Howard seems more concerned for their welfare than mine, but it is overwhelmed by fascinated revulsion at what he has created. Even knowing it’s not quite as deadly as he would have them believe, I can’t tear my eyes away from the gl
owing blue liquid, and the mist forming in the neck of the vial. As I step cautiously back, I realise I am holding my breath. I try and force a relaxed expression onto my face, not wanting to appear antagonistic. After all, these are the closest I have to allies here.

  “I came to ask you to join us, both of you,” Quidel frames the summons as an invitation, but I am under no illusions. Although the vampires are not crowded around me anymore, I can still feel their presence close by. My freedom is still limited, just not as much as they think.

  Howard and I follow Quidel and Faruk back out of the lab, through the building and out into the night air, this time into what I am now beginning to think of as the “human” side of the facility. We cross a wide courtyard and enter at the base of the central building, taking a lift up into the tower.

  We enter the boardroom beneath the control room. Falk and Alaric are already seated, along with several other undead vampires. None of them speaks as we take the remaining seats, although a few shift uncomfortably in their chairs. They stare at the walls, or out the windows, looking anywhere but at me. They’re all so stiff and controlled they remind me of a bunch of corpses. Which, when you think about it, is exactly what they are.

  “Our enemies are almost upon us,” Falk begins abruptly. “We must be ready for them. Howard, I believe your research progresses well?”

  Howard coughs and his eyes flicker to me before returning to Falk. “I have been able to extract a compound from my incomplete antiviral agent, and combine it with the toxins your lab provided, yes. It is still unstable, though effective, and I have a few more tests to run to determine its potency against varying subjects ...”

  “But you will be able to synthesize it in time?” Alaric has no interest in the details.

  “Hopefully, once I have ensured that the intended targets are the only ones ...”