My friend had never seen a vampyre call forth the fires from Hell. I remember the first time I saw it; it was like the end of the world was coming upon us. “The wolves won’t even know what to do. The ones that survive, it’ll be our job to finish them off properly.”
“I think it’s time we made it back, the afternoon isn’t long and we still haven’t had a proper rest,” Julius advised.
Satisfied that our meat traps were in good positions, the two of us took the shortest path back. It was on this short walk that we made a gruesome discovery. Behind some bushes just off the trail, we saw a leg sticking out. We must have missed it while in deep conversation when we first left. With nothing to distract us, small details stuck out better.
Without a word, and knowing what we were in for, we left the path and went to examine. The leg, which was no longer attached to the body, belonged to the man who ran out on us. The main part of his body was picked clean, cleaner than even the fishermen’s catch back in Rota. His head was intact, the expression of dread still there after death.
Julius pulled out his Bible, unable to let go of his previous profession. “Lord, allow this soul to rest easily. His death was a tragedy, Lord, one we are looking to end. Grant him mercy and peace as he crosses from our world and into your arms.”
I knelt down and closed his eyes, hopefully giving the corpse some dignity. “We all knew this would happen.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier to see.” My friend wasn’t used to the sights of what werewolves could do. His face was a pale green color, but he was keeping himself together, for the moment.
It was my turn to pull out my own Bible. I flipped to some of the pages I had earmarked for easy referencing. I recited a few of my favorite passages while Julius stood there and listened. When I finished, he decided to do the same. It was one moment of peace in an otherwise fiendish display.
I’m not sure why we lingered around the corpse of this unknown man. Maybe it was to provide comfort to a soul who died horribly. Maybe it was to remind us what we were fighting for. Either way, we stayed there longer than we should. As darkness began to take over the land, it became clear we’d be in harm’s way if we didn’t take leave.
And that was hastened even more by the sounds of howling in the distance. The wolves were awake and they were hungry.
Chapter Thirty Two
W hen we reached the tavern, the two vampyres were awake and outside. “Where have you two been?” Radu asked harshly.
I decided it wasn’t his business to know why we lingered on the outside. “It took longer than expected to set all the traps.” He eyed me suspiciously. “The point is they are ready and the wolves are moving this way.”
Abigail had a slight smirk to her face, knowing I probably just brushed off his question with a lie. “What do we do now?”
Radu, still eyeing me, had a one word answer ready. “Wait.”
The night sky deepened in its darkness. It gave the impression that the entire world knew what was happening and there was nothing anyone could do to stop this. I said a quick prayer to the Father, allowing him to guide the wolves right where we needed them to go. Our only hope was that they took the bait.
The howling got even closer, and then it stopped. Was this the moment we had prepared so hard for? No one moved, eagerly anticipating the noises of packs of wolves tearing into fresh food. It started as a nothing, but soon, the noise signaled a feeding frenzy. If some wolves had grabbed the meat closest to us, chances were good the other traps had lured in the prey.
I looked back at Radu and gave a small head nod. He reached high into the air, the swirling mist of the Hell energy he could control began to overpower us in our proximity. The dark sky was tinged with red and Hell fire was brought back to earth.
Bright balls of orange, yellow, and red plummeted from the sky. They crashed into the cold ground below, the fires causing our homemade explosives to detonate on impact. Amid the carnage that took over, the wild screams and smells of burning fur filled the countryside.
“Julius, stay with Radu while he finishes his attack,” I commanded.
“Where are you going?”
I opened my coat and tossed him the cross. “You protect Radu, we’re going to finish off the wolves.”
Abigail followed me as I took my jacket all the way off, exposing myself as the Brinza daemon hunter I was. I handed her the daggers as I repositioned my sword on my back and unhooked my flail. “No mercy is to be given to these beasts.”
“I wasn’t planning on showing any today.”
We exited the village as the fire continued to rain down from the heavens. No sooner did we cross the threshold outside the walls did we see wolves on fire. One that was wallowing in pain was quickly ended as another ball of Hell fire landed on him. The blow from the fire actually blew pieces of wolf all over. A limb landed close enough to us to see just how badly charred the skin was. These wolves were not exiting the physical world in a peaceful manner.
This pleased me.
Knowing our targets were the wolves who were still alive and well, the two of us began our assault of the panicked pack. They first few never saw us coming. The spiked ball of the flail made quick work of two wolves that were running away on all fours. Being lower than their brethren standing up, my leverage for attack was superior and the weight of the metal end crushed their skulls with ease.
Abigail cut one down close to the knee and then deftly dodged as one of Radu’s orbs of death finished the job. The werewolf, yelping in pain took the fire right to the chest. The fireball went in one side and out the other, incinerating all of the beast’s internal organs.
The plan was going off without a hitch, except for one thing—where was Dread Howl? Knowing the Alpha was still out there somewhere pushed me to move forward, killing wolves as I passed. Their body counts continued to rise with each passing minute. Knowing that Radu’s ability was coming to an end, I quickly went to kill any more I could find who were distracted.
It was when I had my knee in one of the wolves’ backs, choking the life out of him with the chain of the flail, that the Hell fire ceased. As he shuddered in death’s embrace, I let go and surveyed the scene. Dead, dying, and burnt wolves littered the countryside as far as the eye could see. I wasn’t vain enough to think we had killed them all, but this severely limited the pack. The last thing to do was kill the Alpha.
I met back up with Abigail. “Have you seen Dread Howl anywhere?”
“I haven’t, which is strange, no?”
We continued at a quick pace around the outskirts of the village, in hopes of finding the lead wolf dead or dying. No such luck fell on us. With nothing left to do, we ventured back to Julius and Radu in the village. It was there that we discovered the wolf.
Radu was bravely attempting to fight off the wolf in his weakened state, but the monster, which was at least two heads taller than the vampyre, pushed him aside with ease. Behind Radu was Julius, who was no match for such a beast. I ran as fast as I could to save my friend, but I was too slow. Dread Howl, the most evil looking werewolf I’d ever seen, snapped my friend’s head off clean from his shoulders. I watched in horror as those massive jaws closed tight on it, popping it in the most gruesome way.
I dropped my flail. The whole scene unfolded before me, but it was as if I were observing from another vantage point. The feral wolf turned around, its grey fur stained red with Julius’s blood. He didn’t speak or anything, he just stood there and barked at me. Each grunt that came from the wolf’s mouth was a taunt at me for yet another failure.
Time froze, as the only thing I could look at was my friend. I still saw him, complete and whole. There were no werewolves, vampyres, or even dark days. There was just Julius, my brother, and me. In that brief moment, none of this seemed real. Then the illusion faded, and his horrific death surged back to me.
As I stood there, looking at the beheaded corpse of my oldest friend, something triggered inside me. I reached back for my grandfat
her’s sword, the Sanctae Crucis—Holy Cross in Latin. It had to be God’s glory that brought me the name in my darkest hour. I gripped the Cross of Lorraine’s handle and freed it from its binding. The blade shined a holy light that broke apart the daemonic energies.
“Wolf,” I addressed him calmly. “The biggest mistake you made was killing my friend.”
The malevolent creature hunched down and growled. It wasn’t intimidated by a human, no matter what weapon he carried in his hands. Little did he know that I wasn’t his only opponent, that with one single act he unlocked something deep inside me, something I’d only felt once before.
Unlike the time I felt it when facing The Jackal, there was no closing off the power that burst free. I knew it and that great, big, stupid wolf didn’t. This would be his greatest error.
Dread Howl cracked his neck to the side, a mixture of drool and blood leaked from his exposed mouth. The werewolf was cautious for only a moment before he began his course of attack. He tried to overpower me by coming straight ahead in three huge strides. I stood my ground and as he reached me and swung Sanctae Crucis in a calculated and cold strike. The blade bit into his leg above the crook in the joint and sliced it clean off.
The wolf tumbled away with the loss of his front right limb. I was in a dangerous mood and I was going to give him the same treatment that he gave to my friend. I followed his rolling path, coming toward him as he tried to get up. “An eye for an eye, a head for a head,” I whispered right before I cut the ugly thing off his body.
Killing Dread Howl did nothing to stop the overwhelming sadness that my rage was hiding. I found my friend’s body, right where it had been just moments earlier, still very much alive. I dropped my sword as I fell to my knees. This journey had cost me so much and now it cost me the only person left from Stefania that I considered family. He was clutching the cross that Alejandro had made me. I wasn’t about to take that away from him.
Without a word, I began digging into the ground with my fingers. Julius deserved a proper burial and I was going to give it to him. Radu and Abigail joined me, helping me to create a hole big enough for the priest’s body. Yes, he would always be a priest in my eyes.
It took until late into the night and almost morning for us to finish. Radu helped me lower his body in before the sun began to rise. We buried the cross, the weapon I had given him to protect himself, with his body. I prayed it would protect him the rest of his eternal life.
Radu and Abigail could no longer stay with me, as morning had come. Each passed me with a quick word of sorrow and comfort. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye just yet, so I thanked them quietly and remained with Julius the rest of the day. I told stories and relived our childhood events as the hours went by. I didn’t even realize the entire day had passed; it was only when the vampyres came back out to rejoin me that it hit me.
It was time to say goodbye.
I opened my Bible. “Julius was one of the few men I knew that believed in great causes. He believed in us,” I said to each of them. “Without his intervention, the three of us would still be scattered to the wind. With that in mind, Psalm 116:14 seems to be the right passage.”
I had to hold back the stinging tears to read it properly:
“I will fulfill my vows to the Lord in the presence of all of his people.”
Chapter Thirty Three
W e were here—the Church State of the Vatican, just outside of the Italian capital of Rome. What used to be the holiest of places in our world was a festering pit of malice and disgrace. I had wanted to leave Tuscany the moment we finished giving Julius his proper burial and send off, but now that we were here, I had second thoughts.
No, Maximus, push those out of your mind, I heard my friend say from the other side.
The three of us were wearing heavy cloaks as winter was upon us. Christmas was just a few days away, which meant the normally busy city was even busier, according to Abigail. As I’d never been here, I relied solely on the vampyres and their knowledge of the Vatican.
Abigail pointed to a large painting hanging outside one of the many churches littered around. “That is Pope Frederick Luke I. He’s Vlad’s puppet leader; he consorts with the vampyre almost daily for instructions.”
“What happened to Bishop Brandon?” I asked. “I thought he was Vlad’s puppet.”
“The lifespans of puppets are very short, especially when you’re caught in a public scandal concerning your liaisons with men,” Abigail explained. “His head was on a pike for quite some time as a reminder of the way things are in Drakovia.”
I couldn’t say I was surprised that another lost his life in this mess. Brandon made his own bed, however. He chose to take up arms with the Devil himself and get killed. I wondered if the same fate had fallen the high clergyman who’d hunted us before.
The painting depicted a small head with wisps of white hair and a large nose. The man looked exactly like the sort of weakling that would turn his back on God in favor of the cruel vampyre lord. It was men like him that forced Julius away from his true calling in the Church. I held this Frederick Luke personally responsible for my friend’s death.
We left the streets, as we were exposed in a city where vampyres and daemons roamed freely. We didn’t need anyone to recognize any of us—the immortal brother, Radu, the dead figurehead, Abigail, or the human daemon hunter, Maximus Brinza. We were lucky that the assault on the werewolves didn’t reveal us—to lose our element of surprise at this stage would be a tragic loss.
Once safely inside a crowded inn, Radu slipped upstairs and found an unused room that was closed for repairs. By the time he came back down, he’d successfully picked the lock and gained entry for us. It was in that room where we could remove our heavy, hooded robes and take stock of the situation.
Again, Abigail was crucial for this. “Vlad has taken up residency in Saint Peter’s Basilica. Armed papal guards are at every entrance, except one. Do either of you have an objection to using the underground waterway through the catacombs?”
Radu got a look of absolute delight on his face. “Taking Maximus through the aqueducts and the catacombs for the very first time? I didn’t think my life could find joy ever again!”
“What the hell does that mean?”
The oddly happy vampyre refused to answer, leaving poor Abigail to tell me of what lay below. “The waterways are home to low people, as they call them. Tales of them stealing children and eating human flesh are whispered to travelers each day as night falls.”
“Fantastic,” I replied sardonically.
I didn’t even bother saying another word about it. We waited until just before first light to leave the room; a time when vampyres were retreating to their lairs and before the human population would be at its most active. Since we were going underground, moving around during the day wouldn’t be a bother to Radu or Abigail. No, it appeared our only bother would be these low people.
The entrance to the underground waterways was concealed by a large iron grate. Radu removed that obstacle rather easily, allowing us access. I didn’t feel good about this, but with the first rays of sunshine starting to break out, there was little choice. Abigail jumped first, followed by me. As I hit the watery ground below, Radu joined us. While the two of them landed softly and upright, my landing had been a thud.
Scattered torches gave off just enough light to see the unknown lying in front of us. With weapons ready, we began our final journey. The cold, damp air was thick was malice. Being this close to Vlad’s home base, I started to scare myself, thinking of the unknown horrors that could be around every corner. Abigail tried to soothe me, to little avail.
“Grow a spine, Brinza,” Radu snapped. A vampyre’s acute awareness of human feelings came in handy, I supposed, when they hunted.
“It was you who put the thoughts of the unknown into my mind—these low people,” I growled back.
Great, my mind was playing even more tricks on me. The sounds of scraping stone could just barely be heard.
I looked back at Radu, “Stop it.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“Radu, Maximus, I think you need to look up…”
At Abigail’s suggestion, I did so. “Oh, damn…”
Above us were a group of people, ones who were able to climb on top of the walls and ceilings of the aqueduct. We were surrounded. “Drop your weapons,” one called in Italian.
I set my flail down. “I suggest we all do it.”
The two vampyres looked as if they wanted to attack, but greater numbers of low people emerged from every corner. There was no way we’d win this one. After a brief standoff, Radu and Abigail placed their weapons beside mine.
With us disarmed, a low person in a strange mask repelled down from the ceiling in front of us. “You are our prisoners. Come peacefully.”
What other choice did we have? The three of us put our hands up as a sign of defeat while another low man came down and collected our weapons. Radu hissed at the man when he picked up the Holy Spirit’s Brand, but did nothing else. With everything in their possession, we walked silently into the darkness.
I couldn’t tell how long or far we were marched forward. It was only when a dull light broke into the darkness that I snapped out of my daze. We entered what looked to be an underground mausoleum, hundreds upon hundreds of low people crowded in as we were led forward. We must’ve left the aqueducts and entered the catacombs at some point in our forced journey.
At the far end, there was a man sitting in a dark robe and a bird mask. That’s who we were being taken to. Once there, the men surrounding us parted into the crowd that had convened. The man in the mask stood up, pointing some sort of rod at us.
His voice was gruff, but educated. “I wondered when this day would come.”
What did that mean? I thought to myself. I was about to ask him when Abigail put a hand over my mouth.
“I’m sorry it took me longer than anticipated to come back, Remus. I found my friends and took care of Renard.”
Malice of the Cross Page 17
