Empire of the Vampire

by Jay Kristoff

  “Liathe.”

  Gabriel leaned forward to refill his glass. “Oui.”

  “I knew you were a fool, de León. Yet the mind still boggles to know you name me leech whilst having kept company with the queen of them. To think of—”

  “Careful, coldblood. You want the truth of this tale, best let me have the telling of it. What you know and what you think you know are two different beasts entire.”

  The vampire scowled. “As you like it.”

  Gabriel raised his goblet. “Awfully generous of you.

  “‘You may call usss Liathe,’ the vampire said, bowing. ‘Though we suspect you care lessss for Who and more for What, and we have no time even for ssso small a thing as Why. Danton Vosss is scant hours behind us. He has been tracking you since the Dílaenn, and every maggot-ridden foulblood for miles has been gathered to hisss pale banner. And when he arrives, at the edge of night, the Beassst will murder you all and take the cup in his father’s name. The child hasss but one chance to survive.’

  “Liathe combed a long, black lock from colorless eyes.

  “‘Usss.’

  “Saoirse scoffed. ‘So concerned with Dior’s well-being, are ye?’

  “‘We have guarded your steps for weeksss now. An inquisitor’s cohort out of Sul Ilham laid low by our hand. Another from León. The bloody band who committed the carnage upon which you stand has eluded usss, but since word of the ruckuss you caused in Lashaame reached the Tower of Tearsss, the entire Inquisition has been brought to bear against your little company.’ She tilted her head, eyes narrow behind her mask. ‘Why do you suppose you have ssseen neither hide nor hair of them?’

  “I sniffed hard, spat thick. ‘I can smell your bullshit from here, leech.’

  “‘We have eternity.’ The coldblood sighed, tossing her silk scarf over her shoulder. ‘And yet, not a moment more to waste on nonsense such as thisss.’

  “‘Well, I’d invite you in. But holy ground and all…’

  “‘Law the Fifth?’ she slurred.

  “I nodded, fangs glinting. ‘Even the Dead have laws.’

  “Bloody sword in hand, blood-red frockcoat flowing about her, the vampire slowly walked up to San Guillaume’s gates. And despite the knowledge that this bitch couldn’t enter, I still drew Ashdrinker from her scabbard with a crisp ring of razor-sharp metal. The monster’s eyes flickered to the dark starsteel, the jagged edge where the blade’s tip had snapped free.

  “Never trust a woman who hides her f-face, Gabriel.

  “‘Never mistake a monster for a woman, Ash.’

  “Aye. B-beware this one.

  “I needed no warning, sure and true. I could feel the power in this thing, that bloody blade and the darkling magik that had made it. Questions to which I had no answers were whispering in the back of my mind. But no matter the age, no matter the potency, no coldblood could set foot on sanctified ground. Such was the law of Almighty God Himself.

  “Liathe brought the toes of her knee-high boots to the monastery’s threshold. She looked about her, eyes running the length and breadth of the gate. Chill wind blew a strand of midnight-blue across her mask, and she brushed it behind her ear.

  “And then she stepped right across the threshold.

  “‘What the fuck,’ I breathed.

  “Witchery … Ashdrinker whispered.

  “I looked to the blade in the monster’s hand. Those unanswered questions ringing louder in my head. And I gave one voice, eyes on the vampire as I whispered.

  “‘… Sanguimancy?’

  “‘So out of hisss depth.’ Liathe looked at me with something close to pity. “’Tis a wonder you can ssstill breathe at all, Gabriel…’

  “Saoirse raised her beautiful axe, and Bellamy lit the arrow loaded in his crossbow, Phoebe growling as she circled the vampire’s flank. Liathe seemed completely undaunted by any of us, looking instead to the refectory doors Dior was hidden behind.

  “‘You play a game you cannot win,’ Liathe told us, soft and poisonous. ‘Bring usss the child now, and we will allow the res—’

  “The vampire stepped back as Saoirse swung her axe, the blade skimming barely a whisker from her chin. Silent, swift, Liathe sidestepped Phoebe, the lioness’s claws catching that blood-red coat and shredding it like paper. I shouted warning as the vampire struck back, her bloody blade scything toward Saoirse’s throat. The girl raised her axe to block, but the vampire’s blade simply flowed around the girl’s guard like liquid and re-formed on the other side, leaving a splash of red on the haft as it kept cutting right for Saoirse’s neck.

  “The girl’s eyes widened, she bent backward, that bloody blade slicing two of her braids neat as a razor. Overextended, Saoirse squealed as the vampire’s boot crashed like thunder, right between her legs, sending her tumbling across the bloodstained tiles.

  “Bellamy fired, but Liathe sliced the burning arrow from the air. Ashdrinker hissed and the vampire swayed, Phoebe leaping at her legs again. The monster moved, sinuous and swift, rolling aside and back up to her feet as that crimson sword flashed toward my chest. But I raised Ashdrinker, blood and blade ringing like steel as I blocked her strike.

  “Well, well, Ash whispered.

  “I caught a glint of surprise in the coldblood’s eyes. Her blade had flowed around Saoirse’s axe like water, but Ashdrinker had stopped it dead. And the smug bitch staggered as my riposte caught her right across the cheek of that painted mask.

  “Porcelain shattered, the coldblood flashing backward, coat flowing about her slender body like smoke. Her mask had broken away, only her eyes still covered, and I looked in horror at the thing beneath.

  “The skin on the lower half of her face was gone. She had no bottom lip; sharp teeth sitting in blue-grey gums, mangled flesh clinging to pale bone. Under her silk scarf, I could see the muscles of her neck exposed. It was as if someone had grasped a fistful of her throat and torn the flesh away in one long strip, up and over her chin. I saw fury break through the ice of her eyes as she looked to the broken mask on the stone at her feet.

  “‘You dare…’ she snarled.

  “Bellamy fired another burning arrow, and again the vampire moved like water around a river-smooth stone. Liathe brought her wrist up to her mouth, fangs piercing her marble skin. Blood welled from the wound, bright and beautiful as the vampire flicked her wrist and spoke a word, inverted, thrumming with power. And before my wondering eyes, that sluice of ruby red formed itself into a long flail, as solid as the bloody blade she still carried. The scent of it gripped my aching belly; my hunger surged as Liathe spoke.

  “‘You should have stuck to chasing bu—’

  “Phoebe roared and pounced at the highblood’s chest, but Liathe was the swifter, twirling beneath yet another burning shot from Bellamy and lashing out at me. I fended off a half-dozen sword blows—groin, chest, throat—but that crimson flail caught me about my forearm and I felt myself swept off my feet, flung across the courtyard and smashing a fountain to dust. Still wrapped up, I roared as she slung me again, down into the floor, teeth rattling in my skull as I shattered the mosaic beneath me.

  “‘Fucksakes shoot her, Bouchette!’

  “The soothsinger fired again, striking close enough this time that the flaming shot sheared through a long lock of midnight hair. ‘God damn it, she’s too fast!’

  “Cut thyself free, ye b-bloody fool!

  “I lashed out with Ashdrinker, severing the bloody flail in a spray of ashes. The highblood sent me sailing backward, black stars bursting as I struck the wall and crashed to the floor. Liathe ducked another flaming shot, that skinless face snarling as Phoebe finally sank her claws in. The lioness tore long slashes through the coldblood’s leathers, the pale flesh beneath, and Liathe struck back with her fist, pounding Phoebe’s head into the stone. The big cat buckled, groaning, the vampire raised her bloodblade, Saoirse’s mouth opened in a scream, ‘PHOEBE, MOVE!’ as the blade flashed down like the bloody hand of—

  “‘G-g-godddd,�
�� Liathe gasped, staggering backward.

  “The vampire stared bewildered at the four and a half feet of starmetal protruding from her chest. Ashdrinker quivered, shaking from the force I’d put behind the throw—enough to shatter the monster’s ribs and burst out through her back. Liathe’s flesh sizzled like sausage on a skillet and she staggered, her own bloody blade slipping from her fingers and splashing in a long crimson puddle on the floor.

  “She looked up at me, wobbling now to my feet. ‘Y-you…’

  “Liathe groaned, hands smoking as she closed them about Ashdrinker’s hilt and dragged the sword from her blackened chest. She let my blade fall to the stone with a bright clang, fingers burned to charcoal twigs, dead eyes boiling as she spat ashes.

  “‘We sh-should kill you f-for that, you ungratef—’

  “‘Know my name, ye sinners, and tremble!’ came a fierce cry. ‘For I am come among thee as a lion among lambs!’

  “A silver bright light sheared into the courtyard, and Liathe flinched like she’d been slapped in her mutilated face, charred hands held up to her eyes. Turning, I saw Chloe and Rafa both stalking across the stone, the sister brandishing her silversteel sword, the priest holding his wheel, burning with a light that was almost blinding.

  “‘Leave this holy place!’ Chloe shouted, raising her blade in both fists.

  “Liathe spat through bared fangs. ‘Wretched foolsss, you kn—’

  “‘In the name of God and the blessed Mothermaid,’ Rafa roared, ‘I say begone!’

  “The vampire hissed at the priest’s command, backing away from that searing light. Her chest was split wide, mask shattered, ribs and hands still smoldering from Ashdrinker’s kiss. Rafa cried again, ‘I said BEGONE, devil!’ wielding his wheel like a sword. And just as when we’d fought at the watchtower, Liathe’s body seemed to tremble, exploding into a thousand blood-red moths, now whirring and spinning up into the pale snows.

  “I bent double, spitting blood. And as I watched, that storm of tiny wings rose up through the feeble sunlight and scattered into the gloom.

  “Phoebe stood on unsteady legs, the lioness shaking herself head to tail and snorting blood. Dior came barreling across the bailey, skidding to a halt at Saoirse’s side.

  “‘Saoirse?’ the boy demanded, grabbing her hand. ‘Are you aright?’

  “‘B-bitch … kicked me … i-in the c-cunny…’ she hissed.

  “‘Who the hell is that devil?’ Dior demanded.

  “‘And how in God’s name did she enter holy ground?’ Rafa asked.

  “‘She was a blood witch.’ Chloe looked at me, green eyes wide. ‘Gabe, could she…’

  “But the good sister’s voice failed as I shook my head. I’d thought the same myself at first—some foul arte dark enough to break even God’s law. But looking at the bloody stone at my feet, the stink of burning bodies still hanging in the wind, I’d realized the simple truth.

  “‘There’s no magik at work here. Just murder.’

  “Bellamy stood above, crossbow in shaking hands. ‘What do you mean?’

  “I looked around the bloodstained belly of San Guillaume and sighed. ‘I mean how can this ground still be sanctified, when it’s been soaked with the blood of God’s faithful? How could it remain hallowed, when defiled in the name of that very same God?’

  “‘The Inquisition…’ Rafa whispered.

  “‘In murdering the monastery’s brethren, flaying and burning and torturing them, those fools profaned this place. Soaked it in the blood of innocents and holy men.’ I shook my head, retrieving Ashdrinker from the stone. ‘San Guillaume is sacred ground no longer.’

  “And d-doom rides t’ward it, on black black wings.

  “Saoirse dragged herself to her feet, wincing. ‘That bitch said the Beast of Vellene will be at our throats by nightfall. If she spoke truth…’

  “Chloe looked to me, paling under her freckles. ‘How can we hope to stand against Danton without God beneath our feet?’

  “‘We could put those feet to use?’ Bellamy suggested. ‘We could run?’

  “‘Cowards never triumph, Bellamy,’ the slayer growled.

  “‘They don’t die very often either, Saoirse,’ Chloe noted.

  “I scowled back down the hill. ‘The one path we have to flee by will lead us straight into Danton’s arms. That bastard could track a piece of hay through a stackful of needles. And if he catches us in the open at nighttime, he’ll carve us up like springtime lambs. We’ve no choice but to make a stand here.’

  “‘But that blood witch said Danton has gathered every wretched for miles,’ Bellamy protested. ‘We barely held back a few dozen at Winfael, and that was without a highblood leading them. We’ve trapped ourselves like bloody rats!’

  “I looked around the group, saw Bellamy’s fear seeping into them like poison. Dior’s jaw was clenched, all color gone from his face—it was his decision that had brought us to these walls, after all. Chloe was pacing, dragging one hand back through her curls as she looked to the walls behind us, the sheer cliffs, the hopeless drop into the river a hundred and fifty feet below. Bellamy spoke again, voice trembling with fear.

  “‘We should never have come here, mes amis.’

  “‘Hold your nerve, Bouchette,’ I growled.

  “‘My nerve?’ the lad scoffed, almost laughing. ‘Did you see that monster? She carried a blade made of blood! She turned into a storm of fucking moths! Perhaps such horrors are commonplace for a silversaint, but I’m only a soothsinger! I’m not even a soldier!’

  “‘Soldier?’ I sighed. ‘Let me tell you about the soldiers I’ve fought with, Bellamy. All those great battles you sing about? The heroes who fought at Tuuve and Báih Sìde, Triúrbaile and Coste? They were boys, for the most part. Teenage boys, just like you. Stonemasons and carpenters. Farmers and fishermen. They fought because they didn’t have rich fathers. They fought because they didn’t have a piece of parchment with the Emperor’s seal to save them. They fought because they had to. And they’d nothing to look forward to afterward, most of them. All they’d be at the end of it was alive. But before every battle I ever fought, I’d look at the faces of those boys, and in their loyalty to each other, in their courage at the sight of those horrors, I tell you sure and true, I used to see the face of God.’

  “I walked to the monastery wall and thumped my fist against it.

  “‘We have strong stone around us, Bouchette. Liquor in the cellars and water to be blessed. Holy wheels and silversteel.’ I looked around the group, fire in my eyes. ‘We don’t need soldiers to win through this. We need only stand together.’

  “‘Véris, Silversaint.’ Père Rafa smiled, clutching his wheel tight. ‘Véris.’

  “Dior squared his shoulders and nodded. Chloe put her arm around the boy and squeezed tight. Even Saoirse stood a little taller.

  “‘Bouchette, I want you fetching as much water as you can. Rafa, get to blessing it. Saoirse, start hauling liquor from the distillery. There’s barrels of it, pure and strong as sin. Chloe, Dior, I want you looking for tallow, wood, bedding—anything that will burn. We don’t have long ’til sunset, and I want to be ready when His Majesty arrives.’

  “I looked at the soothsinger in the lingering still.

  “‘You’ve still got your seventh song to write, Bellamy. You’re not dying tonight.’

  “The company set about it, Dior headed to the kitchens, Saoirse to the cellar, Bellamy following Rafa, still looking shaky. Only Chloe remained. She stood a foot and a half shorter than I, clad in chainmail and silversteel, hands on hips as she smiled.

  “‘You always did give a rousing speech, mon ami. You haven’t lost your touch since the Battle of the Twins.’

  “I shrugged, turning away so I didn’t have to watch that vein, pulsing just below the line of her jaw. ‘When you’re playing your last song, always pick a crowd-pleaser.’

  “‘… Last song?’

  “Still refusing to look at her, I murmured so none might o
verhear. ‘When Danton arrives, keep Dior close. I’ll cut you a way out if I can.’

  “‘What happened to standing together?’

  “‘Fucksakes, open your eyes, Chloe,’ I snarled.

  “‘I don’t—’

  “‘We’re pinned down. Cliffs at our backs and God knows what coming at our front. Most of the folk in this company can’t fight worth a damn, and the ones who can won’t be halfway enough. I’ve had nothing to smoke for days. And Danton won’t strike until it’s night. All his power, all his strength brought to bear. Odds are about perfect we’re all going to die.’

  “She licked at dry lips, glancing down the hill. ‘Do you truly think we’ve no hope?’

  “‘Keep Dior close,’ I repeated. ‘You see a break, fucking run.’

  “Chloe chewed her lip, fear finally breaking through that rime of eternal optimism. She’d always been a believer. Always felt we were meant for greater things. And swallowing hard, she nodded to herself, slipped her gauntlet off her hand, and offered me her wrist.

  “‘… Here, then.’

  “My jaw clenched. Pupils dilating. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  “‘I know it’s a sin,’ she breathed, trembling. ‘But I’ve given seventeen years of my life to this, and the whole empire hangs in the balance of it. So Gabe, if you need the strength…’

  “My fangs were bright and sharp against my lips. My heart suddenly dashing itself against my ribs so hard it made me gasp. My veins were fire, that thirst rising on crimson wings—to have it offered freely when it was all I could do to stop myself just taking it …

  “‘Chloe … get away from me…’

  “‘Gabriel, I—’

  “‘GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!’

  “She stumbled back as I roared, her mouth open in shock. I knew what I must look like—eyes flooded red, canines flashing, the thing in me so close to breaking loose, I could feel it clawing through my skin. But not here. Not like this. I’d promised.

  “Chloe stood aghast as I backed away. She seemed smaller then, closer to the girl I’d once known. There was still fire in her eyes. Faith. Fury. But there was fear now too—the fear that comes with knowing the world is much bigger than you could ever be, and that there are simply some truths you’ll never understand.