But not for long. For all their viciousness, their talons and needle teeth, the death promised in their eyes, these pure vampires—for that was what Mulkerrin somehow sensed they were—were no match for Charlemagne’s warriors, whose weapons were made, not of steel as they had first appeared to be, but of silver. The material was poison to all magical things, in greater and lesser degrees, but the more evil a thing, the more powerful a weapon silver became. These pure vampires were truly evil, and one good wound from a silver blade caused them to explode in a burst of pustulent black fluid, the stench of which penetrated even Mulkerrin’s magical protection.
Still, he reveled in the power that had been given him by the Lord, to force these creatures to do his bidding . . .
Yes, Liam, you have done well for me, the voice of God boomed in his head, and tears sprang from Mulkerrin’s eyes as he thanked his creator for the mission, the chance to serve.
Ah, but why do you tarry so with these creatures? the voice asked. Surely I gave you more than enough power to choose from a thousand ways to wipe them out?
“Yes, Lord,” Mulkerrin said aloud, kneeling, hovering, eyes closed, protected, amid the aerial portion of the bloody battle. “But you see I am only human, and it is taking me some time to become acquainted with all that you have given me. It has been somewhat difficult to concentrate on understanding my new abilities since my return to this plane.”
Did I choose wrong in freeing you from your Hellish prison? the voice asked.
“Oh, no Lord! Please, your will shall be done! I only needed a little time to grow accustomed to my—your power! Now,” he cried, “I shall destroy them all.”
“Oh, I think not, old enemy,” a voice from Mulkerrin’s past said, and he opened his eyes. Before him, Peter Octavian hovered, battling the air currents with enormous feathered wings, his body otherwise unchanged, and smiling a terrible, mocking smile
The voice of his Lord was silent now, but Mulkerrin did not mind He would get on with God’s work in a moment, but first . . .
“Finally,” he said to Octavian, his eyes widening with glee, “you will die.”
John Courage, the Stranger, fought side by side with Meaghan Gallagher, Will Cody and this newcomer from the SJS, Stefan. Courage no longer bothered to hide many of his long-developed abilities. Like Charlemagne, one hundred yards away, Courage’s hands had become talons of real silver, and a powerful swipe was enough to cause one of the true vampires to explode. The creatures’ numbers were dwindling fast, and only moments before, Mulkerrin had allowed the portal to close. Somehow, his concentration had again been broken.
Nearly two millenia had passed since the Stranger had last battled these true vampires, and then he’d destroyed the last of them on Earth. That conflict had not been nearly as simple, but Courage was not complaining. Instead, he was worried. There was something not quite right about Octavian, something familiar, though they’d never met, and the Stranger became more and more curious as minutes ticked by. Courage had tried to contact him mentally, as he ought to have been able to do with any earth-spawned vampire, but all he got was static, white noise, with the essence of something evil behind it. It was possible that this was caused by Octavian’s long imprisonment in Hell, but not likely.
Perhaps his time there had more of an effect on him than any of us suspected, Courage thought. There was the fact that Octavian knew him as the Stranger, merely because Lazarus had told the former detective of his existence. Too coincidental, and certainly not detective work. And finally, there was the current question.
Courage had to wonder why he and the others were being swarmed by the gnashing jaws and flapping wings of the true vampires, while Octavian had not had to fight off a single one of the creatures as of yet.
We are nearly victorious. Charlemagne’s thoughts came into his head.
Over these creatures, yes, but the sorcerer yet lives. Try not to destroy all of the vampires yet. Give it a moment, Courage sent back to him. Let’s see if Cody can get the job done.
And then Charles was gone from his mind, and he opened his thoughts to Cody and Gallagher, simultaneously. He felt Meaghan’s surprise, as she had not yet experienced contact with him, but he also sensed her respect for him. In Hell, she had told him, she had been shown deference by demon-lords simply because she mentioned his name.
Only a few more feet, he sent to them, and we will be directly behind Mulkerrin. He thinks himself invulnerable from attack but as soon as Octavian engages him, Meaghan and I will destroy these “vampires” and give Cody a clear shot at the sorcerer’s back.
What if I screw it up? Cody’s question came into Courage’s mind.
As did Meaghan Gallagher’s response: Don’t.
Courage watched as Octavian confronted Mulkerrin, and he wished that he could see the look on the sorcerer’s face. As it was, the smile on Peter Octavian’s lips told quite a story, and forced John Courage to dispel his concerns regarding Octavian’s strangeness. This was a shadow thoroughly enjoying the impending defeat of an enemy who had cost him a thousand years of torture. Courage was relieved.
Cody, now! he thought as he moved in sync with Gallagher, lashing out at the leathery skin of the vampires that surrounded them. Cody transformed himself into a hawk shrieking as the silver dagger was absorbed into his body. The old cowboy had a while to go before he could comfortably forge wings from his flesh while retaining his otherwise human form. It was a learned skill, and he hadn’t had the time, the years.
Lord, Charlemagne’s voice came into Courage’s head, the few true vampires that still live are fleeing. Shall we give chase?
God, no! Courage thought, hoping Mulkerrin didn’t notice that his creatures had lost the battle. No, Charles, we’ll track them later, if this gambit works.
And then their hand was played, as Cody shifted back to human form twenty feet directly above Mulkerrin and dropped, dagger in hand, through the sorcerer’s shield.
Liam Mulkerrin could not believe it, nor could he understand. Peter Octavian, who had thwarted his plans for vampiric genocide and for a new Catholic Church under his own leadership, who had been responsible for his imprisonment in Hell and had been imprisoned at his side, subject to the same tortures . . . Octavian was laughing at him. The vampire taunted him, and try as he might, Mulkerrin was powerless to stop him.
When the other vampires had attacked, he had needed to learn his new abilities, and their numbers were such that, unless they angered him, he would not concentrate on those few whose assault was direct, but on the masses. With Octavian, it was different. Mulkerrin’s pure hatred of the shadow made it impossible for him to see beyond their conflict. And yet, it seemed he could not harm the creature. He had attempted spells that simply did not work; he had tried to reach out, using his sorcerous influence, and strike at Octavian, to no avail. Mulkerrin knew something had happened to Will Cody that made him immune to magical influence, but this thing with Octavian was something completely different, something more.
With Cody, the spells worked; Mulkerrin’s influence was there, but did not affect him. With Octavian, the spells failed. His sorcery was functional in all other ways, his protective shield intact, but each time he attempted to use it against Octavian, it was as though he were striking out with the ghost of an amputated limb.
“What’s wrong, Liam?” Octavian asked with a smirk. “From omnipotent to impotent in just seconds—it’s an awful feeling, isn’t it?”
“I have the power of God in me!” Mulkerrin nearly shrieked in panic, as Octavian moved closer. He realized then that he truly feared Octavian, and then he pushed the truth away, pretended it had never existed. With God on his side, he had no need for fear, he was protected.
“God?” Octavian laughed. “Would God help a butcher like you, a madman whose only love is the creation of pain and suffering?”
“My only love is God!” Mulkerrin said without hesitation. “Once I reveled in the pain of others, inflicted in the name of God. A millenia of
suffering at your side in Hell has shown me that my pleasure in the suffering of others was vain, that such suffering is for God’s pleasure only. It is through pain and death that this world will be purified for him.
“And you will not stop me!”
Mulkerrin tried again to lash out at Octavian, but he felt nothing inside, at the source of his control over the magic. The vampire moved closer still, and Mulkerrin winced.
“Would God,” Octavian asked softly, slowly, “give you the power to call up creatures of the darkness? Would He use such creatures for his own ends?”
“Since the days of his son Jesus Christ and the human Joseph the Carpenter, God’s Church has controlled the creatures of darkness, as you put it,” Mulkerrin said proudly, drawing himself up. “It is only right that they be put to use cleansing the world they would have liked to destroy. All creatures are God’s creatures.”
At that Octavian smiled
“Not all creatures,” he said, and something told Mulkerrin to look away, away from the vampire, his old enemy, whose broad wings held him aloft in the air currents around them. Octavian’s comment seemed to refer to these new things, the pure vampires that Mulkerrin had called up from . . . well, not Hell, but elsewhere. Mulkerrin looked down, where the creatures ought to have been savaging Charlemagne and his troops.
And were not. Instead, the creatures, the pure vampires he had brought to Earth had either been killed or fled into the alleys of Salzburg. But rather than taking flight to press an attack on Mulkerrin, Charlemagne’s troops were poised, prepared for battle, and doing absolutely nothing. But why?
Mulkerrin glanced quickly back at Octavian, whose smile said nothing, and everything. A setup of some kind, but from . . . Mulkerrin moved, as fast as his mind could pull the strings of his sorcerous influence on the world around him, back away from Peter Octavian. And he watched as Will Cody fell past him, scrabbling at air with a silver dagger, only a few feet away and well within his “protective” shield. A lot of good it would have done; he had not even felt Cody’s violation of his shield.
“Son of a bitch!” Cody yelled as he dropped, and as Mulkerrin watched, the vampire buckled in the air, his face a rictus of pain, as ragged wings sprouted from his back, his legs shrinking, drawing up into a painful combination of human flesh and feathered talon. But his upper body remained human, his right hand filled with silver, and he moved toward Mulkerrin with agony carved into his features. Unlike Octavian, there was nothing graceful or beautiful about this difficult transformation for Cody, nothing angelic.
Mulkerrin looked back at Octavian, and saw that his face had broken into a grin so impossibly wide it must have been assisted by vampiric metamorphosis. It was a terrible grin, with murderous intent, and all thoughts of the angelic appearance of his wings were gone from Mulkerrin’s mind, not that he ever would have admitted to such a thought.
“Die, you bastard!” Cody shouted, and Octavian did not move to assist the other vampire as Mulkerrin conjured a trio of mist-wraiths, creatures who had long been his slaves. In the days when he was nothing more than a sorcerer, he had bound them to him, their wills nearly nonexistent, and used them as his most common ally, often for emergency transportation. When he first encountered Octavian, he had used mist-wraiths. In Venice, during the Jihad, he had relied on them heavily. Now, with so much going strangely wrong around him, it was reflex to call on them to attack Cody, and he didn’t have time for more.
In seconds, the three wraiths covered Will Cody, and he could not concentrate on holding the winged form he had assumed. To avoid falling, Cody turned to mist, and the silver dagger he had been holding fell, tumbling, to the bloody cobblestones far below. Out of the corner of his eye, Mulkerrin saw Meaghan Gallagher and a male shadow he did not know, almost too close, but he ignored them. Perhaps he could not attack Octavian directly, but thus far the vampire hadn’t made a move, which indicated that unlike Cody, he could not pass through Mulkerrin’s protective shell.
Stalemate. It was time to shake off these minor considerations and battles, to stretch his new abilities to their limits. He would begin with the destruction of the city below, and let them attempt to stop him. The only one capable was Cody, and Mulkerrin would not let that shadow out of his sight, would summon demons to keep him away whenever necessary. He would do . . .
Nothing! the voice of God boomed in his head. You will do nothing more, Liam. You have failed, been distracted far too long by your petty angers, tiny fears.
“No, Lord!” Mulkerrin said aloud. “Don’t do this to me. I am your fire of purification, your weapon.”
Not a weapon. You have never been more than a tool.
“Please,” the sorcerer pleaded. “Do not say such things.”
And then his shield was gone and he was falling, summoning two more mist-wraiths even as he fell, the extra strength granted him now gone. Despair cast a pall over his soul. Abandoned by his God, he was suddenly without any guidance. Still, he was a sorcerer, and had knowledge of many spells of power—he would survive.
And then Octavian was there, his hands clasped around Mulkerrin’s head, tightly squeezing, and the mist-wraiths had dissipated as if they had never been there. A hundred feet above the ground, Mulkerrin was held aloft by those hands on his head, and Octavian’s wings lifted them both higher, then higher still.
“Admit it,” Octavian said, his face so close to Mulkerrin’s that their noses almost brushed. He spoke softly, like a lover. “Admit it, Liam.”
“What are you talking about?” Mulkerrin screeched, even as his mind fought to concentrate on spells despite the pressure on his skull.
“Admit that you know what the vampires are, who the Stranger is. Admit that you knew, all along, in your heart of hearts, that it wasn’t God speaking to you,” Octavian purred.
“My God,” Mulkerrin cried to the sky, “why have you abandoned me?”
“Come now, priest,” Octavian chuckled dryly, “he abandoned you long ago, and you knew it. You knew. You were never on the side of the angels. Admit it to me, now. Forget your petty angers, your tiny fears, and admit that which you knew, but feared to recognize!”
The words burned into Mulkerrin’s mind, past the blinding pressure in his head. Petty angers. Tiny fears. And he knew. Knew who had been speaking to him all along, who had freed him from Hell, made him such a formidable weapon and sent him forth. Liam Mulkerrin knew whom he served. It was not God, never God. And it was not, most certainly, Peter Octavian.
You ! Mulkerrin thought.
Oh, yes, the voice came back to him, in his head. And Octavian smiled, kissing him on the forehead.
“Don’t worry, Liam,” Octavian said. “You were already damned.”
Octavian stopped rising, now more than three hundred feet above the ruined Residence Plaza, lifted the old priest above his head and slammed the man’s body across his lifted knee, the shattering of bones audible in the terrible silence that had fallen over the entire city. Then he simply let go, and with life slipping from him, finally, Mulkerrin saw the pleasure on Octavian’s face as he fell. His last thought was a fervent wish for mercy, a hope that he would die before he hit the ground.
And then he did hit, and the time for wishes was at an end.
Salzburg, Austria, European Union.
Wednesday, June 7, 2000, 10:36 A.M.:
“Let me go, you son of a bitch!” Allison Vigeant screamed, finally, losing it, and started slamming her elbow into Roberto Jimenez’s chest. They had crossed the Salzach, and Roberto had been hustling her along, trying to get them all out of there, when one of his soldiers, a black woman, had shouted for them all to look. Dozens of heads turned toward the sky and watched as, high above the city, one lone shadow broke Liam Mulkerrin, and hurled him to his doom on the street below.
“They did it!” Roberto said, astonished, and Allison turned to go back, but Jimenez wouldn’t let her. So she fought him.
“Let go!” she yelled again, and used all her strength to flip h
im onto the pavement in front of her. Jimenez was an expert fighter, and she’d only been able to do it because he hadn’t expected her to be able to do anything of the sort. She wanted to laugh at the look on his face and the stunned silence of the soldiers in their immediate vicinity But it wasn’t time for laughing.
She went to kneel by him, but Jimenez wasn’t having any of it; he was up and in her face in seconds. Still, she wasn’t about to back off.
“What the hell are you up to?” she asked. “It’s over, don’t you see? We’ve won.”
“You’ve got it all wrong,” he said sternly. “They’ve won. The vampires. If we went back there now, it would be two to one in our favor, and with vampires, that’s shit for odds. I’m not going back there without an army of hunters, specially prepared to take out vampires. And then we’ll go after them and Hannibal at the same time.”
“They wouldn’t attack you, you fool!” She shook her head. “They’ve always been on your side; you could go after Hannibal together!”
Jimenez didn’t have to say a word; the look on his face was enough.
“You’re not going to stop the nukes, are you?” she asked. “Once you’re safe, you’ll tell them to go ahead.”
“Don’t be an idiot!” he told her. “With Mulkerrin out of the way, they won’t want to destroy the whole city just to kill some vampires. Don’t worry. If I can get in contact with the secretary general fast enough, there won’t be any nuclear attack.”
Jimenez had motioned for his troops to move on, and that’s what they were doing, searching for a phone that hadn’t been knocked out by earthquake or fire. Now he and Allison Vigeant only looked at each other with disgust.
“I’m not a vampire,” she said. “Are you going to hunt me?”
“I’m trying to save you,” he answered, softening a moment, but Allison was having none of it. His tone only angered her more.
“Good hunting, asshole,” she said, giving him the finger.
“Good riddance, traitor,” he answered as she turned and began walking back the way they’d come, back to her lover and his people.
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