Empire of the Vampire

by Jay Kristoff

  “‘Release her,’ I spat. ‘By the Blood of the Redeemer, I command it.’

  “I could see the dark fury in Luncóit deepening as she took another step toward me. This was a creature old as centuries. I was an insect beside her. And yet, with God beside me, I stood a thousand feet tall. Light blazing before her, Talon and Greyhand rushing at her back, the vampire flung Véronique at the wall like a rag doll. I cried out, diving and snatching the lass from the air as the force slammed us both backward into the stone. The vampire moved in a blur, smashing onlookers aside and crashing through the ballroom windows. Shattered glass rained to the floor as Greyhand and Talon flew after her into the night.

  “‘Murder!’ came a cry. ‘Murder, by God!’

  “I shook my head to clear it, blinking about me. I saw one of the house gens d’armes staggering into the hall, the body of a serving lass in his arms. The girl was dead, drained pale as ash, twin punctures at her throat. The crowd about me gasped in horror.

  “‘N-nobody of consequence, eh?’ Véronique moaned in my arms.

  “With a moment to check on the bewildered lass, I pursued my master and Talon, flying through the broken window. I could see Aaron by the carriages, struggling with a tall, bearded man. Greyhand charged through the bailey past bewildered soldiers, Talon behind, both swift as hawks with the sacrament they’d smoked. Running to Aaron’s side, I slammed my dagger’s pommel into the thrall’s head, allowing the lordling to lock up the man’s arm and hurl him into the ground. I saw Aaron’s doublet was soaked with blood—clumsy with drink, the lordling had earned himself a stabbing. But he seemed more furious than pained.

  “‘Damned bastard,’ he spat, putting his boot to the thrall’s head.

  “‘Are you well?’ I gasped, looking at his bloodied clothes.

  “‘Unknot your gizzards, you quivering peon.’ He winced, pressing his chest with one bloody hand. ‘What in God’s name happened in there?’

  “‘Luncóit spotted me … That is to say, I…’

  “De Coste met my eyes. ‘Oh, Mothermaid, de León, you fucking didn’t…’

  “My stomach sank. I’d no regrets, but I knew my disobedience had landed me hip-deep in shite again. I heard a rush of footsteps, felt someone seize my throat. I was slammed back into the carriage, black stars bursting in my eyes. A fist struck my stomach, another blow cracked the side of my head so hard it almost popped my jaw loose. Blood in my mouth, I collapsed to the cobbles, crying out as a boot collided with my ribs.

  “‘You shitblooded little arsegrubber!’ Talon spat. ‘I should’ve dragged you to Heaven’s Bridge when I had the chance! You just cost us our fucking quarry!’

  “I pulled myself up to my elbows, spitting blood. ‘I just s-saved a girl’s l-life!’

  “‘And ended untold others!’ Master Greyhand’s stoic mask was abandoned, his fangs grown long as he loomed above me, drawing his silversteel sword. ‘What did I tell you, boy? What did I say would happen if ever you disobeyed me again?’

  “Feastgoers had gathered out front of the manor house. Aaron looked to the steps, saw his cousin among the throng, her silken dress torn, her autumn hair in disarray. The Baron and Baronne themselves looked on as Greyhand raised his blade. But God had stood with me as I stared down that monster. He’d willed me to save that girl’s life.

  “Surely he’d not abandon me now?

  “Dull moonslight glinted on silversteel, all my life flashing before my eyes. And as the sword began to fall, Aaron stepped into Greyhand’s path.

  “‘Master, stop!’

  “Greyhand held still, glowering as de Coste pointed to the unconscious thrall.

  “‘This bastard spilled where they nest! An estate near Falls Bridge, on the Silver Lane. If we move with haste, we can burn them out before they escape.’

  “‘Presuming they return there, having now been discovered,’ Talon spat. ‘And presuming Luncóit does not tear us to pieces before e’er the sun rises.’

  “‘All the more reason to spare this idiot.’ Aaron glanced to his cousin, back down to me. ‘At least for now. We’ll need every blade we can muster to best this foe.’

  “Greyhand and Talon exchanged blood-red glances. I saw my master’s grip on his sword tighten. He was so close to letting that blow fall, I could taste it. But in the end, he glanced to the gentry and soldiers about us, then to Aaron, standing now his way.

  “‘You’d best pray God that Initiate de Coste is right, de León,’ Greyhand growled. ‘Because if this monster and her brood elude us, every murder they commit thereafter is a stain upon your soul. And whatever happens tonight, when we return to San Michon, there will be a reckoning. Mark my words, boy. You will never Hunt as my apprentice again.’

  “I hung my head, nodded slow. ‘Oui, Master.’

  “Greyhand sheathed his sword. Talon turned back to the keep, eyes red as blood.

  “‘Gather your gear, brothers. We have a leech to kill.’”

  V

  THE AGE OF THE FALL

  “I LAY ON a rooftop in the Silver Lane with Aaron, both of us peering over the roof’s ridge. The cobbles below were packed with feastgoers, their music and laughter muted by the rush of the nearby waterfall. But the estate across the way was pitch dark. All too silent. Archer sat on an iron weathervane nearby, watching me like a hawk.”

  Jean-François quirked his lip. “A falcon watching you like a hawk? Truly, de León, your wordsmithery is a marvel to behold.”

  “My story, coldblood. I’ll tell it how I like.” Gabriel finished off his wine and wiped his lips. “And for your information ‘wordsmithery’ isn’t a real word.”

  “Nor is ‘fuckarsery,’ but you hear no complaints from me.”

  “Strange, I swear that’s exactly what I just heard. Now, can I tell my tale or no?”

  Jean-François sighed. “As you like it, Silversaint.”

  Gabriel topped up his glass, tapping his chin.

  “So. We’d no knowing if Luncóit or her brood had returned here after the keep. But we had no other trail to follow. Aaron kept his eyes on the estate, stuffing his pipe with the sanctus entrusted to him by Greyhand. Guilt was gnawing at me as he lit his flintbox, dragged a deep draught into his lungs. I wondered again if our master was right—if my disobedience had saved one life only to cost hundreds more.

  “But moreover, I was harboring another guilt besides. I knew it made no sense for de Coste to have stepped up to my defense if he were behind the attack in the San Michon stables. If Aaron truly wanted me dead, he could’ve just shut his mouth and let Greyhand’s sword fall. Despite how bad I wanted it to be true …

  “Maybe I’d been wrong about him.

  “Perhaps someone else had set La Cour free.

  “Or perhaps she’d just broken free herself, as Talon always claimed.

  “So why the fuck had Aaron been sneaking around the Armory that night?

  “When the lordling opened his eyes, I saw them washed red, irises almost swallowed by his pupils. I nodded as he handed me the pipe. ‘Merci.’

  “‘You’re welcome, Peasant.’

  “‘No … I mean … for standing up to Greyhand on my behalf. Merci, de Coste.’

  “Aaron’s eyes were back on the house, his breath coming like a racehorse’s. But the sanctus seemed to have sobered him up at least. ‘You’re an idiot, de León. A stubborn ass who thinks he knows better than men who’ve hunted these monsters for years. And that vanity is going to get you killed.’ He glanced my way briefly. ‘But you saved my cousin’s life. Famille is famille. Now hurry up. They’re already moving.’

  “Aaron spoke truth; I could see the dark silhouettes of Greyhand and Talon converging on the wrought iron fence surrounding the estate. And so, I drew a boiling red dose into my lungs, momentarily overcome with the rush of it, the thrum of it, uncoiling along my edges and filling every inch of me. And then we were moving, past the astonished merrymakers, burning torches and silversteel in hand as we reached the estate doors an
d blew them in like storm winds.

  “Bloodstains on the carpet. Spatters on the wall. A dead servant lay on a chaise longue, our torchlight glittering on crystal chandeliers as we swept through the house. Greyhand and Talon were silverclad, tunics and greatcoats stripped off, but I could see no light in their inkwork, nor feel any heat in my own aegis. Greyhand descended into the cellar while Talon combed the lower level. Side by side, Aaron and I climbed the grand staircase.

  “We split up, fanning out across the landing. I burst into what looked like the master boudoir, saw an elderly woman in the bed, red spatters on silk sheets. I knew she’d been slain earlier—that there was nothing I could’ve done to prevent this carnage. But the monsters who’d murdered these people were still at large. With every passing moment, the certainty that they’d eluded us was growing, and guilt over the ones they’d kill tomorrow night, the nights after, weighed heavier on me with every step.

  “I heard a cry from Aaron, a thumping crash. I spun on my heel, dashing down the hall and bursting into a luxurious study. De Coste was on the floor, wrestling with a broad Sūdhaemi man. The fellow was twice Aaron’s weight, and obviously a thrall—even with a dose of sanctus in him, de Coste was struggling. I put a kick into the big man’s head, locked up one of his arms as Aaron seized his throat. And looking into the fellow’s eyes, de Coste hissed.

  “‘Be still now.’

  “The thrall groaned, trying to throw off the compulsion, but by then, Greyhand and Talon had arrived. The man was brought to heel, Talon and I leaning on his arms as Greyhand sat atop his chest, a silver dagger to his throat.

  “‘Get off me, godpig!’ the man roared.

  “‘Where is your mistress?’ Greyhand growled, pressing with his dagger. ‘Speak!’

  “The man hawked a mouthful of spit into Greyhand’s face. Our master broke his nose with his dagger’s pommel, glanced to de Coste. ‘Find her.’

  “Aaron nodded, kneeling beside the thrall’s head. The man tried to close his eyes and turn away, but Aaron held him still. ‘Tell us where your mistress is.’

  “At the same time, Talon put his hand across the man’s brow, eyes narrowed as he forced his way into the fellow’s thoughts. I felt that familiar jealousy—seeing bloodgifts at work while I stood there, useless as balls on a priest.

  “The thrall bucked and hissed, the blood from his broken nose lighting up the thirst inside me. He tried his best to resist—if Aaron and Talon were mere inquisitors with something as mundane as a rack or wheel, I’m certain the thrall would never have broken. But in the end, the Blood won through.

  “‘The bridge,’ Talon said, looking up. ‘They’re at the Falls Bridge.’

  “‘Why?’ Greyhand demanded. ‘Why not simply flee?’

  “‘Because you’re too late!’ the thrall roared. ‘All that needs be known is known! The Master comes, you fucking godpigs! And blood and fire shall mark his passing!’

  “Greyhand’s fist crashed into the thrall’s jaw, leaving him slack and senseless.

  “‘This riddle makes no sense…’

  “‘We’ll learn the truth of it,’ Talon spat, ‘when we bring this unholy beast to ground.’

  “The four of us flew into the streets, barreling down packed thoroughfares. Aaron led us like an arrow, past dancing revelers and wandering lovers, toward the river cutting the city in two. Grey snow tumbled from the skies, Archer cut the dark with a piercing cry.

  “Aaron slipped his coat from his shoulders, tearing off his tunic and leaving his tattoos bare. I stuffed Astrid’s portrait into my britches and followed suit. All four of us were silverclad now, but the sanctus kept the chill away, the thought of what was to come rushing like fire through my veins. As we reached the Falls Bridge, I glanced at Greyhand and saw that glow in the silver on his skin; the telltale sign that evil was near and God rode with us.

  “The waterfall was a rushing roar now, but above it, I heard laughter in the crowd ahead. My heart was pounding a hammersong as we pushed through the mob and finally, miraculously, saw our prey before us. The vampire we’d stalked since Skyefall.

  “Marianne Luncóit.

  “The Falls Bridge was dark stone, the railings lined with brass statues of saints and angels. She stood among them, all in red, her child Adrien at her side. A mob of drink-sodden feastgoers were gathered about her, cheering as she opened her hand like some corner magician and released a white raven into the air. The bird was beautiful, cutting down into the freezing spray and back up into the night. Three cages were lined up along the rail, two already empty. Squinting into the sky, I saw more birds winging westward over Raphael’s peak. And my heart sank in my chest as I realized what they were.

  “‘Messengers…’ I breathed.

  “A sharp cry split the air, and a thrall with a battleaxe came at me through the crowd. I met the blow with Lionclaw, the mob about me screaming. Blood sprayed as I struck back, kicking the fellow in the chest and tumbling him across the cobbles. A swarthy lad with lank hair was hewing at Talon with a broadsword, Aaron whipping out his wheellock and unloading into the face of a Sūdhaemi man charging him with punching daggers. The crowd roared again as the shot rang out, Greyhand bellowing over the panic.

  “‘Fly! For the love of God and the sake of your souls! Fly!’

  “The crowd scattered as I plunged my sword into the big thrall’s belly. All the world was moving as if in a dream, the sanctus rushing in my veins. The thrall’s axe cracked the cobbles as I stepped aside, his jaw broke loose as I buried my pommel into his face. As the blood and teeth flew, I wondered if this man even understood what he was doing. If the poison he’d swallowed from his dark mistress’s wrist allowed him the luxury of fear or regret, or simply made him a slave to her ancient will. Dying for the only God that mattered.

  “But die he did, gasping his last at the end of my sword as the Maximille’s Day revelers fled screaming, leaving only us and two monsters in the middle of the Falls Bridge. Grey snow swirled about us in freezing eddies, grey water rushed below us, over that frozen edge. Marianne Luncóit opened her hands again, releasing yet another white raven into the night, and I saw a small scroll of parchment tied to its leg with a bow of black ribbon.

  “Her cages were empty now. Her stare too, as she turned to us, perilous and beautiful. Long flaming hair framed her face, somehow untouched by the howling wind. Her skin was white and hard as marble. And perhaps it was a trick of the light, but looking to the cobbles beneath her, it seemed she cast no shadow at all.

  “‘Too late art thou, oh children,’ she said. ‘All that needs be known is known. And now he shall know it too.’

  “‘Rejoice.’ The child gifted me a dark smile. ‘The age of the fall has begun.’

  “I glanced to the white ravens soaring westward, and I knew with awful certainty where they were headed. Who he was. The lion on my chest and the sevenstar in my palm burned with divine heat, warming my blood. And frightening and otherworldly as these two were, I could see the way their eyes narrowed as we closed about them. The way the boy’s lip curled as a soft hiss slipped between his fangs.

  “‘Long nights hast thou harried my steps,’ the woman whispered to Greyhand. ‘Felt thee, like lips gentle on back of my shivering neck. And here thou art, my beautiful hunter.’

  “She held out her arms.

  “‘Kiss me.’

  “‘The Lord is my shield, unbreakable,’ Greyhand spat. ‘He is the fire that burns away all darkness. He is the tempest rising that shall lift me unto paradise.’

  “The frère stepped forward, and the vampire edged back. Her chin was lowered, lashes fluttering as if somehow delighted by the pain that holy light caused her. Her ruby lips curled in a smile that was almost … affectionate.

  “‘I know thee, Silversaints. Talon de Montfort. Aaron de Coste. Gabriel de León.’

  “‘Listen to nothing she says,’ Talon warned.

  “‘If the keeping of thy names have I, wouldst thou not know mine?’ She ran h
er hands over the pale swell of her breasts, down to her hips as she smiled at Greyhand. ‘What name shalt thou whisper otherwise, Aramis Charpentier, when I love thee?’

  “‘We know your name. Luncóit? Raven Child? Hardly the deepest of riddles, Voss.’

  “The monster smiled, sly and wicked as she spoke the creed of her line.

  “‘All Shall Kneel, good Frère.’

  “She moved then, murder-quick into Greyhand’s light. Though the glow narrowed her eyes, curled her lip, still she struck, swift as a thunderclap. Greyhand gasped, bending backward as diamond-hard fingernails whistled past his throat. Her other hand struck him in his chest, her flesh sizzling, sending him sailing back across the bridge as if he were made of feathers. I cried out as my master struck the railing, smashing the stone to dust and collapsing to his knees.

  “Greyhand was back on his feet in a blinking, charging toward Luncóit. But the boy was moving too now, fast as a serpent’s tongue. He drew a wicked dagger from his doublet in one hand, a wheellock pistol in the other. I cried out as he struck the trigger, Aaron whipped sideways as the shot hit him in the chest. And then the boy was flying at me. He slipped beneath the silverbomb I hurled, silhouetted in the explosion behind him. I danced backward, keeping him at bay with Lionclaw as Seraph Talon charged Luncóit’s back.

  “Muscle memory kicked in; the countless hours of sparring entwined with the bloodhymn in my veins. But I fought highbloods now—the foes I’d heard so much of but had never truly faced. They moved hurricane swift, and even though the light from our ink made that beautiful deadboy grimace in pain, still he came on. I hurled another silverbomb, swung my blade. I put all I had behind the blow, but though Lionclaw found Adrien’s neck, his flesh was stone and his knife quicksilver as he struck back, too fast to follow.

  “I staggered, hitting the flagstones, blood in my mouth. Adrien’s shadow fell over me, and I saw death reach out its hand. But the flesh at his wrist cracked like glass as Aaron’s blade crashed atop it, and Adrien hissed, slipping aside from the burning brand de Coste thrust toward his chest. Aaron struck again, silversteel sliding along the boy’s cheek, trimming his dark locks. The vampire flashed backward, one hand to his bloody face, the other still holding his bloody knife. De Coste stood guard over me, eyes lit by his burning torch. A bleeding hole was torn in his chest, angels of the host burning silver on his arms.