Tales of the Slayer, Volume II

by Various

  “Who is it?” Michel called as he strode to the door.

  It must simply be someone from the village who needs our help, Eliane told herself. But people from the village rarely came to them for any reason. She, Michel, and the children lived a solitary life.

  “Gaston Roux,” came the answer.

  Eliane had never heard the name before. But the grim expression on Michel’s face made her suspect that her husband had.

  “Who is that, Maman?” Gervais asked.

  “We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?” she answered, struggling to keep her tone light.

  Michel swung open the door. Three men stood outside.

  “Eliane Ward?” the tallest man asked.

  “Eliane de Shaunde,” she corrected him, using her married name. All the little hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The nightmare images from her dream invaded her mind once again. This man was her enemy. She could feel it.

  “I am Gaston Roux, your new watcher,” the man announced. “The Slayer is dead. You have been called.”

  Heavy silence filled the room. Eliane realized she was not breathing.

  “I . . . I am Eliane’s Watcher,” Michel said. “She has no need of a new one.” But his voice sounded high and frightened, and Eliane knew it was useless. They had been found out.

  Gaston Roux now turned his cold eyes on her husband. “Michel de Shaunde, my associates will escort you to London, where you will be required to stand trial for your offenses before the Council.”

  “Offenses?” Eliane exclaimed. “Is it an offense to have a family? To love your wife and children?”

  “You know it is!” Roux snapped. “At least you should know. A slayer with children—it is an abomination. Your watcher should have taught you this much.”

  He gestured to the other two men and they moved forward slowly, positioning themselves on either side of Michel. He clutched baby Isabeau tighter, and a soft moan escaped his lips.

  “There is no abomination here,” Eliane whispered. “Only happiness.”

  “The position of Watcher is a sacred one,” Roux answered, his eyes on Michel. “The rules of conduct were well known to your watcher.”

  “My husband,” Eliane corrected him.

  “What is a watcher?” Gervais asked, his little voice trembling. In Michel’s arms, Isabeau began to fuss.

  Eliane couldn’t tear her attention away from Roux to answer her little boy. Even last evening’s nightmares paled in comparison to this. These men wanted to destroy her family! “What if he refuses to go with you?” she demanded.

  The two other men stepped closer to Michel, threatening without saying a word.

  “He cannot refuse,” Roux said.

  Michel kissed Isabeau’s forehead and gently placed her in her cradle. The baby immediately began to wail. The sounds shredded Eliane’s heart. “You’re not really going to leave her, leave us?” she asked Michel.

  His eyes gave her the answer. They were flat and dull, as if Michel’s soul was already absent from his body. “I have no choice,” he said. “But I swear I will come back to you.” Michel wrapped Gervais in a tight hug. “Papa has to go away for a little while. You be a good boy and take care of Maman and baby Beau.”

  Gervais’s little chin quivered, but he nodded. “I will, Papa.”

  Michel took a step toward Eliane, then froze. She knew why. He was afraid if he touched her now he would never be able to let her go. It was how she felt as well. Eliane wanted to hurl herself at him, to press her body against his so hard that they would become one, inseparable. But Michel had to go; he had no choice. So she would do nothing to make this harder. She would not give the council members that satisfaction.

  “Come back to me soon,” Eliane said quietly.

  “I will.” Michel turned toward the door. Roux’s two associates escorted him outside. Eliane stared after them for a long moment, then shut the door behind them.

  Her mind reeled. She had closed the door on her entire life. There was no living without Michel. She was not even sure the sun would rise tomorrow over her half-empty bed.

  “We must begin training at once,” Roux announced. “It is my sad duty to tell you the last two slayers were killed by the same vampire, a demon called Tatoul. He seems to have acquired a taste for slayer blood. Tatoul will soon know your location, and he will come for you, bringing others with him.”

  Eliane stared at him, shocked. A vampire coming here? Looking for her? She could not fathom such a thing. He wants me to be terrified, Eliane thought. This bitter man has destroyed my family. I will not allow him to frighten me.

  “There has never been a vampire in Beauport. I know of them only through Michel’s descriptions,” Eliane said. “There is no need for a slayer here. Your council has made an error.”

  “The council is never wrong,” said Roux. He held a stake out to her. “Come. Let us train. You will need all your skill to face Tatoul. He is an old one. His powers have been growing for many years. It is said he can move like the winds of a hurricane, so fast that he is almost invisible to the human eye. Soon he will be here, he and the others. You must believe me. You should feel the call within yourself.”

  Eliane took this in. She could not deny a certain quickening in her body, almost as if her instincts had been sharpened since yesterday. And there were the dreams, those which haunted her even now. She knew in her heart that he spoke the truth: She had been called.

  “I refuse the call,” she said simply, trying to ignore the wild rushing that now filled her ears. She almost fancied that she heard evil voices on the wind. But she turned away from Roux, from the stake in his hand.

  “That is not your choice to make,” Roux replied, his words tipped with steel. “Would you let the people of your village die when you have the power to prevent their slaughter?”

  The image of humans being slaughtered like pigs filled Eliane’s mind. Poor creatures. Poor helpless creatures. She blinked rapidly, trying to free herself from the gory picture. She had to be strong now, no matter what the price. All that mattered was her family, and her family could not exist without Michel. “When my husband is returned to me, I will take my position as Slayer. Not before.”

  * * *

  “I am the Slayer. I will do what I must,” Eliane said aloud to reassure herself.

  It was almost time. The last rays of the sun were lingering on the horizon.

  Eliane heard a rustling in the trees outside the cottage. Not almost time, she realized. Time. She dipped her finger in the small vial of holy water and made a cross on Isabeau’s forehead. If the priests were right, the holy water might help keep evil at bay.

  “Be strong, my darling,” she whispered. “I pray this is enough to protect you.”

  Eliane checked the stake tied to her back and picked up the crossbow lying beside Isabeau’s cradle. A supply of arrows fit neatly into her waistband—arrows Michel had carved to perfection over the years. The sharp wood of the arrows would slide easily into the monster’s flesh.

  Without hesitation, Eliane moved to the door and opened it. She scanned the small clearing in front of the cottage and the woods that surrounded it. Yes, there was movement in the underbrush. She could see the movement of the demon.

  Eliane slid an arrow, wickedly sharp, into the crossbow and raised the bow to her shoulder, aiming at the trembling leaves of the blackberry bushes. She pulled in a deep breath and waited for the demon to show itself.

  The rustling grew louder. The leaves shook harder. And a hoof stepped out into the clearing.

  The hoof of a doe. She cautiously moved through the blackberry bushes and began to graze on the tender grass at the edge of the clearing. A moment later, her fawn joined her, the hair on its spotted rump looking as downy as Isabeau’s wispy locks.

  The air left Eliane’s lungs in a whoosh. She forced herself to survey the woods again before she lowered the bow. Then she picked up a small rock and tossed it toward the deer. “Run away, Maman. You and your ba
by aren’t safe here.”

  * * *

  “Think about the safety of your children, if the fate of those in the village is not enough to soften your heart,” Roux said.

  He’d been talking for hours as the day turned to night, and all the time a feeling of nausea had been growing in Eliane’s stomach. Now it was almost unbearable. “What my children need is their father,” Eliane answered, shooting a look at Gervais—still napping, as was Isabeau in her cradle. “You would do best to return to the council yourself. When Michel is brought back to me, I will gladly take on the duty I was trained for.” They will bring me my husband before they let harm come to any of the people here, she told herself. I must stay strong.

  There was a knock on the cottage door. Eliane’s heart seized up. More trouble come so soon? She straightened her spine, determined not to show Roux even a hint of fear, and swung the door open wide.

  A corpse stood outside, bones almost poking through the skin of its face, deep furrows in its brow, and a mouth crammed with fierce, jagged, deadly sharp teeth.

  “Tatoul,” Roux whispered.

  “Vampire,” Eliane said, the word spoken involuntarily. She had heard many stories, and even studied sketches, but this was the first time she had ever seen one of the creatures in the flesh. It was so close to her, she could smell the coppery scent of blood on its breath.

  Eliane took a step backward, her gorge rising in her throat. She had not been prepared for this, the horror. Michel had never told her of the smell.

  “He cannot enter if you do not invite him,” Roux reminded her, as if she could ever forget such a basic fact, as if Michel had taught her nothing. His condescending tone roused Eliane. She shook off her feelings of fear and disgust. Before she dealt with the vampire, she must deal with this odious man, Roux. He was merely a watcher. She was the Slayer. She held all the power, and she must not forget that.

  The watcher tossed her a stake. She let it clatter at her feet.

  The vampire raised an eyebrow. “Clumsy for a Slayer,” he commented, showing even more teeth as he smiled. “I came tonight hoping for some amusement, but—”

  “I’d have caught it if I wanted to,” she answered. “Caught it and killed you where you stand.”

  “Easy to say. Much harder to do,” Tatoul answered.

  “Not if I chose to,” Eliane answered, pleased that her voice came out firm and strong. “And if things go as I hope they will, I will soon choose to.” She shot a glance at Roux. He stared back at her, his eyes as hard as rocks. “But until then, you and your kind are free to do as you will, without fear of the Slayer.”

  Tatoul hissed in a breath. “Even if what I will is to sink my teeth into your pretty white throat, taste your sweet slayer blood?” he asked, his hunger-filled eyes sliding to the point just above her collarbone where Eliane could feel her pulse beating.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Roux began, running toward her. Eliane shot out a hand and caught him by the throat. In one swift move, she pinned him against the wall next to the door. Now he and the vampire stood side-by-side, one in the cottage, one outside. Her twin enemies. She held Roux still as she addressed the vampire.

  “There are some limits to my generosity,” Eliane answered. “Me and mine—my son, my daughter—are untouchable.” Surely Roux will order my husband home now, she thought.

  “I don’t make bargains,” Tatoul told her, sliding his tongue across his cruel incisors.

  “And I don’t ask for favors from your kind,” Eliane replied. “I occasionally give warnings, if I’m in the mood.”

  The vampire inclined his head. “I’ll spread the word, pretty Slayer. And here is a warning for you. You choose not to fight. Do not imagine that we will do the same.”

  * * *

  Eliane started awake.

  It was dark in the cottage; the only light came from the last dying embers of her cooking fire. Her hand flew immediately to Isabeau, and she breathed a sigh of relief at feeling the babe’s chest rise and fall in sleep.

  She had been dreaming of slaughter. The demon stalked through the village, tearing apart the innocents there. This time he did not even play with them the way a hunter toys with its prey. This time he tore them limb from limb, eating their flesh as they watched with dying eyes.

  Was I really dreaming? Eliane thought. Or am I seeing through the demon’s vision?

  It was not likely that she had fallen asleep. She knew he came for her tonight, and as the Slayer she did not need sleep the way others did. No, this was not a natural sleep. It was a spell, a trance he forced on her.

  She had seen evil deeds before this, although never quite so vividly. Indeed every night since the vampires came she had dreamed of the village. She had witnessed the horrors committed there, the men and women tortured. The vampires did not kill the villagers right away, preferring to draw out the agony.

  But this time, Eliane was spared no detail. This latest vision was so powerful she could actually feel a lump of flesh sliding down her throat. Worse, the sensation was enjoyable.

  Eliane knew why the demon was sharing each sensation with her. The vampires wanted her. The innocent villagers were simply bait, there to lure the Slayer from her home.

  She stood. She would wait no longer. She would go to him, and bring death with her.

  The Slayer would take the bait.

  * * *

  The scream came from only inches away.

  Just on the other side of the door, Eliane thought, pressing her hand against the wood. Someone is being attacked right outside.

  Isabeau answered with a wail of her own. Gervais had given up on screaming. He just sat in the corner now, rocking to and fro and watching Eliane with big, terrified eyes. Michel’s eyes, Eliane thought, smoothing the fair hair back from her little boy’s forehead.

  “Try to be brave, my love,” she murmured, leaning in to kiss him. “Soon Papa will be back, and then the monsters will all go away.”

  “You foolish wench,” snapped Gaston Roux. “The demons have just slaughtered a man on your very doorstep. The undead frolic among the cottages of your town. Your children are on an island surrounded by blood and gore, and yet you tell them stories of salvation?”

  “Be silent!” Eliane growled. “I’ve told you I’ll not listen. You’ve taken my husband, and until he’s returned, I will not hear a word you say.”

  The words were strong, and her voice did not waver. But Eliane knew she could not hold out much longer. She had thought refusing the call would be a simple matter of standing up to the Watchers Council. She hadn’t realized that the call came from within her. Her very blood sang with the desire to be out in the night, stalking her prey, destroying the undead who roamed Beauport, stopping the slaughter of the innocents. During the sunlight hours, all was calm. But come sundown, the unsettled feeling in her stomach returned, and her senses were heightened almost beyond bearing.

  The vampires had taken the village. Though her cottage was almost a mile from the center of Beauport, Eliane could hear the screams on the air, could smell the stench of death. It was impossible, she knew, and yet the noises and the odors plagued her. Her pulse seemed to pound against her skin, pushing for release. Sleep brought her no solace, for with sleep came the dreams—dreams of the hunt, the freedom and power of tracking her nemesis. In these dreams, all her heightened senses were put to use—to smell the beasts, to hear their undead footfalls, to sense with her body the nearness of the demons.

  The call was so irresistible that when she woke, it was all she could do not to fling open the cottage door and throw herself into slaying just to satisfy the needs of her body. And to avenge each and every one of the innocents the evil ones had taken.

  But then she would look at Gervais, her darling boy, and see in him her husband. She could not abandon Michel. She would not give up on their love, even though it cost the life of every person in Beauport. She looked at Gaston Roux. How could he be allowing all this slaughter to happen?

&nb
sp; “Do you know why the demons haunt this town?” Roux asked. “It is because they know you are weak.”

  “I am not weak,” Eliane said, though she felt faint with the need to hunt. “I will not weaken.”

  “You fight your own destiny,” Roux pressed. He moved toward her as if he could sense that her slayer’s instincts were battling with her reason.

  “Michel is my destiny,” Eliane gasped. “And our children—”

  “Maman! Maman!” Gervais’s shrieks filled the room. “Maman, there’s blood!” He sobbed uncontrollably.

  Eliane rushed to her boy and pulled him into her arms, turning his face to her chest to spare him the sight. There was indeed blood. Running under the doorway and pooling at a low point in the dirt floor. And the puddle was growing. So much blood.

  Eliane felt sick. She raised her eyes to meet those of Gaston Roux. “Where is it coming from?” she whispered.

  “The vampires cannot come inside your dwelling,” Roux said. “But they can invade in other ways. They are teasing you, showing you just how horrific their power is when they are unchecked by a slayer.”

  Eliane frowned. “I do not need a lesson. You are not my watcher, and I am not the Slayer.”

  “You deny your sacred duty. You are no better than those soulless wretches out there. We are all doomed.” For the first time, Roux sounded frightened. “This is but your first taste of true evil. I tell you, Eliane, there is much worse than what you have seen. Tatoul, the leader, has walked the earth for centuries. Your heart would stop if you knew all that he has done in those years.”

  There was a moan from outside. Eliane’s breath caught in her throat. Whoever had been attacked out there, just inches from where she stood, was still alive. Was this the blood of that poor unfortunate? Maybe she could still help him. She rushed to the door and pulled it open, ignoring Roux’s yell of protest.

  With the door came the body. A young woman’s body, held fast to the door by means of a knitting needle stabbed through her stomach and into the wood. She was nearly naked, and had clearly been tortured. The telltale wounds of a vampire’s teeth marked her neck, her wrists, even her leg. Her head lolled about as if her neck could no longer support it, yet still she lived.