Children of Blood (Kat Drummond Book 13)

by Nicholas Woode-Smith

  Even though I had accepted them as allies (at least of convenience), I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief now that they were gone.

  Krieg sobbed, softly, as an injured Brett cradled him. I turned to Cindy. She had bags upon bags under her eyes. Burned out her spark. She did that too often. Wasn’t healthy. Could lose your spark that way. Permanently.

  “Cins…you are not to cast any more magic until you have an uninterrupted eight hours of sleep,” I ordered.

  She displayed shock and looked about to argue.

  “Make that twelve hours! That’s an order. Right, Guy?”

  He looked between me and Cindy, deciding who to displease. But concern overwhelmed prudence.

  “Rest, my love,” he said, quietly. Cindy glared, but that glare turned to a frown, and then the exhausted stare of someone who had finally reached their end. She wilted, and let Guy lead her away.

  All around me, the crowd of onlookers had dispersed. The novelty of my angel wings and the vampires was gone. Now was the pathetic grey epilogue of a battle. The time that stories skip over. No more adrenaline pumping to carry you onward. No more threat of death to drive you.

  Just stillness, and the residue of the shock that so many had died.

  There was never any relief from war. Never really an end. Because Victoria was right. Nothing would ever bring them back.

  The morose and quiet activity of collecting bodies, checking on the wounded and resting our weary, bloodied bones, was suddenly broken by the obnoxious blaring of sirens.

  Oh yeah, I still had a warrant out for my arrest…

  The hospital wall and fence, flattened during the battle, was pressed even further into the torn up soil and dirt as police cars and white armoured carriers surged into the wrecked expanse that had once been a place of healing.

  Shocked. Wounded. Exhausted. Crusaders and purifiers drew weapons and readied spells, facing the vehicles as they circled us, like sharks. The cacophony of sirens and engines was joined by the yelling of orders as the carriers stopped and Whiteshield mercs poured out of the backs, forming shield walls. And aimed their machine-guns at us.

  All the vehicles eventually pulled to a halt, forming an armoured circle around us. Police joined the Whiteshield lines. I saw pale faces. Shivering. Doubtful.

  I had respect for some police. Those police were now dead or fired. These were the leftovers. The type who just followed orders.

  “Kat Drummond, Brett Callahan, Kyong Man…among others. You are under arrest. Anyone who stands in our way will be considered complicit and be dealt with,” a policeman, much more certain and angrier than the previous one, boomed through a megaphone.

  He didn’t add “to the fullest extent of the law” to the sentence. He meant dealt with, as in the way I do it.

  It seemed Riaan was not playing nicely anymore.

  I could fight them. I knew I could. The army of the Vessel told me I could. I hadn’t been crushed like my comrades. I was fresh. Well-rested. Powerful. I could form Ariel’s wings again, incant Gorgo’s healing magic to keep myself alive, and cut into all of them. I wouldn’t even feel too bad about it. They had chosen this path. I had chosen mine.

  I could win.

  But I wouldn’t be able to save my friends.

  Not even I could outrun or outfly bullets. The Crusaders and the purifiers would be gunned down. Annihilated. Brett, looking up with fear and sadness in his eyes, as he cradled his friend, muttered pleas to me.

  “Don’t go…”

  He’d die.

  Guy had picked up a rifle. He hadn’t noticed yet that it wasn’t loaded. Cindy looked comatose.

  They would die.

  Trudie and her wolves were panting, salivating blood.

  They would die. It would take a lot of bullets. But they would eventually die.

  I stared at a dozen tired, broken faces. And I knew I couldn’t keep this up.

  My war would have to end.

  Treth felt my resignation. I expected arguments. Pleas from him as well as Brett. But none came. He knew what needed to be done.

  I stepped forward and placed my hands on my head.

  A black werewolf stepped in my way. Trudie growled at me, and then turned to the police. Heather stepped up beside her, holding her glaive. Pranish muttered under his breath as his eyes darted across his notepad. Flames erupted behind his eyes.

  Henri, his left arm limp, braced a rifle on the ground, pulled back the bolt and then held it ready with one hand. Kyong, without spark, fell into a combat pose. More and more joined, picking up whatever they could, and surrounding me.

  Brett pulled himself up, and limped beside me, holding my shoulder.

  He looked into my eyes.

  “We won’t let them have you. Never again.”

  “But…we’re outnumbered…”

  They were crazy. They’d die…they’d all…

  A faint buzz became audible in the distance. Then louder. And louder. I heard clacking and muttering from the police lines. Even the disciplined Whiteshield mercs began looking over their shoulders.

  Then, the buzz became a chorus. A song carried by hundreds of voices. Maybe a thousand.

  “A bounty is all I need,

  To feed my hungry belly.

  But even if I starve tonight,

  The hunt is all I need.”

  It was the Monster Hunter’s anthem. An old song. The older Crusaders had sung it at the Gravekeeper Tavern after enough pints to knock over a troll. I hadn’t heard it for what seemed an age.

  The singers, hundreds of them, clambered over the debris and stopped a yard from the Whiteshield and police lines.

  They didn’t wear uniforms. They didn’t have guns or armour. Some held placards. But they weren’t protesters. Not against me, at least. Many wore the knock-off salamander coats that Conrad flogged. Others wore the Crusader armbands and hats. And, on their placards was a simple image – of a figure with flaming wings.

  And among them were not just humans. Golden lights whizzed above the heads of the crowd. Bark-skinned dryads hummed along to the tune. Orcs held human children high on their shoulders so they could see. I recognised Gareth and the other werewolves within the crowd, their eyes glowing gold.

  They hadn’t forgotten about us…

  The crowd circled the police and mercs, as they struggled to decide who to aim at. As the crowd of our allies and people who supported us settled, I recognised a woman at the front of the crowd, holding a megaphone. Jane. She wore a shotgun strapped across her back.

  Jane was joined by Conrad and…Phillip Brown. Jane pressed a button on the megaphone to send out a beep, stopping the chanting. She handed the megaphone to Phillip, who accepted it and faced the police lines.

  “Captain, it would be wise to stand down. Your constituents aren’t pleased with your behaviour. And they pay our salaries.”

  “We are under orders to arrest these criminals,” the Captain retorted, even as his men shifted and muttered. Some had already dropped their guns. “If you obstruct justice, you will be considered an accomplice.”

  I couldn’t see it for certain, but I could detect Phillip’s satisfied grin. Even now, I wanted to slap him. And he was on my side!

  “It’s not that simple, Captain. This is no longer a criminal matter. This is a constitutional issue. The warrant you have is void and irrelevant. The Last Light is not a criminal you can just arrest. She is governed by a higher power than you or I.”

  “Bullshit!” the captain yelled. “I don’t know who you are, but this is a final warning. Stand down. Surrender the Last Light, and we will not fire…”

  The captain’s words were cut off, suddenly, as the world heaved. Some of the injured Crusaders toppled. I held onto Brett, keeping him upright, as everything shook.

  “The Titan?!” some people screamed.

  It couldn’t be. Not now. Had the Conclave gotten to it? When we were distracted? The Mentor had said the war would begin after the Izingane Zegazi had been d
ealt with. But I didn’t expect it to be this soon!

  But I could see Table Mountain. It was still whole. Rather, the sky above us was beginning to shimmer, as runes lit up across the sky. Tapestries and scrolls burst from the void, surrounding us.

  I recognised the script. I had seen it on Pranish and Colin’s work when they’d been developing DigiLaw. It was lawmancy.

  It couldn’t be…

  The scrolls formed tendril-like arms, as the tapestries moulded into a giant, blinking eye. The world stopped shaking, and the eye shifted to the police captain.

  He went ghostly white as he dropped his megaphone.

  Even from here, I could see the shock on Jane’s face. But Phillip just looked smug. He spoke into the megaphone again.

  “The Spirit of the Law seems to think that Kat Drummond and her comrades haven’t done anything wrong. I wouldn’t test it. It’s been known to sting.”

  Pranish was covering his mouth in shock and awe, even as he analysed every bit of this behemoth above us.

  “It can’t be…” he muttered. “It’s meant to only come out during…”

  “Constitutional matters,” Phillip continued. “Are of upmost concern to the Spirit of the Law. And it now recognises the Last Light and the Crusaders as a necessary organ of the state. Hope City’s defenders. And as they stood against foreign invasion, you are attempting treason in apprehending them.”

  Almost every cop and merc had dropped their guns. Some had run, disappearing into the crowd.

  The captain moved his mouth, unable to say anything.

  “It wants an answer, Captain,” Phillip said. “Will you stand down?”

  The captain was frozen, just as the Spirit of the Law boomed, moving its tendrils to strike. The captain dropped to the floor and grabbed the megaphone.

  “We stand down! We give up. Please…”

  As suddenly as it had appeared, the Spirit of the Law dissolved. Satisfied.

  The police fled. Many on foot, abandoning their vehicles.

  The Crusaders and purifiers breathed a sigh of relief as our allies surged towards us, embracing friends and offering healing, food, snacks and even beer.

  A child offered me a bottle of cola. My discomfort at bringing a kid onto a battlefield was soon overwhelmed by my desire for a drink. I thanked him and he beamed, as I drank the beverage.

  And, as I did so, I saw a purifier exit the shadow of the ruined hospital.

  Stephanie Naidoo stopped as she saw I’d noticed her. She looked like she’d blown all her spark on one hell of an illusion.

  I smiled and then pretended I hadn’t seen her, as the people of Hope City reminded us why we fought for them.

  Chapter 25. Home

  ***GUY***

  Salty sea air washed over my face and filled my lungs as I stood facing the ocean. Behind us were rolling green hills. Just like my homeland. We were close to it. Just by the Three Point Line. We’d driven in convoy with CDF troops coming for their tours on the border. Some had wanted my and Cindy’s autograph in Plett. When Conrad had tried to get me to participate in his grand merchandising scheme, I’d calmly and firmly told him to shove it. I didn’t fight for fame. And much less for his merchandising profits.

  But this was different.

  Or, perhaps it was the same, and I was different. Maybe, I was just happy to have the people supporting us again. And, it seemed that for every naysayer and hater, there were dozens more who remembered who kept them safe while they slept in their beds and barracks.

  The CDF soldiers saluted us as we passed through, and we saluted back, before continuing on our way to a distant hill, covered by grave markers without bodies.

  This battle had lasted a lifetime. More. And it didn’t leave bodies. Those who died fighting the Blood did not expect a burial. But we did what we could.

  Themba, Bongani, the Blood Hunter who had finally introduced himself as Dumi, Cindy and I stood on this hill, marked by graves. And we remembered. Not like the Blood remembered. Not with hate. We remembered our comrades fondly who had fought for a better future. To save people.

  Silumko, my mentor. Blessing, who betrayed us, but then redeemed himself through sacrifice. Anathi, who lost her life defending her family. And many, many more. Wisdom, the boys from my village, and the Transkei Rebels were memorialised among them.

  We stood in solemn silence, letting the sea breeze wash over us. It was calm. Peaceful. I knew it wouldn’t last. But, for now, I could enjoy it.

  Themba, healed from his wounds, but still limping slightly, checked his watch.

  “We’re going to be late for the crossing!” he announced, and then turned to me. We embraced.

  “Be safe, cousin. Don’t go chasing monsters you can’t slay.”

  He released me and turned to Cindy. “Keep him out of trouble, Cins.”

  Cindy and my cousin hugged, and she smiled. “Always.”

  I shook hands with Bongani and Dumi.

  “Thank you, brothers,” I said.

  “Thank you,” they replied. Together, we breathed, deeply. The air smelled different. Cleaner.

  “The Path…” Bongani began.

  “Is complete,” I finished.

  We never thought we’d live to say that.

  “Au contraire, gentleman,” Themba said, beaming like his old self. “There’s still an Empire to topple. Sure, the vampires are on the run, but impi can be just as scary.”

  “You’ve got your own vamps watching your back now, cousin. I expect you to be reigning over the Xhosa Kingdom in the next year.”

  “Me?” Themba scoffed. “I’m no king. None of us are. Transkei shall be a land where every Xhosa is king!”

  I laughed. “That’d still make you a king.”

  Themba grinned. “You’re right there.”

  We hugged once more.

  “Goodbye, cousin. We’ll see each other again.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  I watched them as they left, mounting their bikes at the bottom of the hill, before I turned back to the grave markers.

  I crossed past the graves of freedom fighters and Blood Hunters, touching the tops of the stones we’d carved with our own hands, and stopped at the top.

  A single grave dominated the top of the precipice, looking over the sea.

  I took off my backpack and fished inside it, retrieving a bottle of splendid, golden-brown liquid.

  Whiskey. The label read: Coronation, 20 Years.

  It was expensive. Rare. Good vintage. More than a good handgun. But it was worth every penny.

  He would have liked it.

  I placed the bottle carefully by the grave, so as not to cover the name engraved upon the stone.

  Graham.

  I stood, looking at the grave, and the whiskey by it, letting the sound, scent and touch of the sea air wash over me. Again, and again.

  Cindy reached out and touched my hand. I squeezed hers and held it, firmly.

  I think he also would have liked her. Or more what she represented.

  He’d always wanted me to find someone.

  “Who was he?” she asked.

  I’d never told her. Perhaps, because it was too painful. Or, perhaps, because words could never do justice.

  “A tokoloshe,” I said. “And my best friend.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes, as I smiled at memories. Painful, beautiful, happy and sad.

  I embraced my wife, and stayed by Graham’s side, until the sun went down, and we returned home.

  ***KAT***

  “You rested enough in the hospital!” Treth exclaimed. Well, he’d say it was exclaiming. Sounded more like a whine to me. “Let’s go out and get some action. Slay some undead!”

  I ignored him, as I reclined on my couch, in my apartment, letting Alex nuzzle my chin as I read a sci-fi novel. Brett was out getting food for dinner. He wanted to cook something. We may not be married like Cins and Guy, but he was definitely trying to be a good househusband!

  Just what I need
ed after being comatose, awaking to an apocalyptic battle, then almost losing all my friends to gunfire.

  At least the police hadn’t questioned the appearance of the Spirit of the Law yet. I trusted that Phillip Brown was pulling strings to make sure it wasn’t looked into.

  Hah. It felt weird to be trusting Phillip. But he’d come through for us, at the end. Well, if vampires could be our allies, then perhaps even Phillip could be too.

  I sighed at Treth’s griping and put down the book. I tried not to smile. It was good to have him in my head again. Even if his tone was annoying.

  “I wouldn’t call a spiritual journey through Avathor rejuvenating, Treth. I need a real rest. Gods know that I deserve one!”

  Treth didn’t reply. I felt a hint of sadness from my ghostly friend.

  “I’m sorry, Treth…”

  “It’s fine, Kat. I’m just a little sad, you know? I know this may be my new home, but I still miss Avathor. Sometimes.”

  “You are allowed to,” I replied, closing the book for good. “Our home never really changes. No matter where we go, no matter what happens to it. I won’t take that away from you. But know that I’m glad to have you here.”

  I felt Treth smile, and I smiled back, before closing my eyes, and letting Alex curl up on my chest.

  It was good to be home. And it was good to relax while I could.

  I felt Candace approaching. Her presence through our soul-connection was strengthening. She was drawing closer by the hour.

  She was returning home.

  Which meant one thing.

  The real war was about to begin.

  ***

  Hope City had always been beautiful. Even as fires, and darkness consumed it, it had always contained a certain majesty. Even the slums held a pulsating energy that the man in the dark robes could not deny. It was his home, after all, and no matter where his journeys took him across the seas of spirit and Earth, he couldn’t help but return.

  Wind buffeted his robes, as he squatted on the edge of the dark tower that protruded from Hope City’s mountain, the Titan’s Tomb. He’d never been a fan of the Titan Citadel. It was garish. Beastly. He remembered what Table Mountain looked like without it.

  Before the quakes, no one in what was once Cape Town would have dared mar their mountain with such a monstrosity.