Empire of the Vampire

by Jay Kristoff

  “And then the bells began ringing.

  “Our eyes met over the plane of her heaving belly. Confusion breaking through the swell of hunger, the rush of need. My pulse was hammering, my lips and chin drenched, sweet nectar and hot blood and salty sweat as the tolling rang out over the monastery, echoed through the empty Library.

  “‘What’s that?’ she whispered.

  “The hour was late, but dawn was nowhere close; this was no mass being called. And helping Astrid up from where she lay, ignoring the thirst that surged ever brighter as I looked to her still-bleeding mouth, I spoke with creeping dread.

  “‘Something’s wrong…’”

  XI

  WHICH YOU WILL BE

  “‘OATHBREAKERS! FUCKING BLASPHEMERS!’

  “‘Shut your mouth!’

  “‘Bastard, bog-grubbing sinners! ’Ware ye! ’Ware now, Brothers!’

  “Those were the cries that greeted Astrid and me as we stumbled from the Library and into the night. The air was freezing after the fire of her lips, and I could still feel her body pressed against me, taste the sin of her in my mouth as we spied a mob of silversaints and initiates in the snow outside the Armory.

  “‘Best get back to the Priory, Majesty,’ I told her.

  “She nodded, squeezing my hand. ‘Be careful, Gabe.’

  “I circled about the monastery bridges, approached as if from the Barracks. Nearing the Armory, I saw Seraph Talon on the steps, fury in his eyes. And beside him …

  “‘Oh, no…’ I whispered.

  “‘’ Ware!’ Talon roared. ‘’ Ware now! Foul sin and oaths broken, by God!’

  “Aaron and Baptiste stood together, clothes disheveled, Aaron’s lips red and raw. I joined the back of the crowd, more ’saints and initiates now spilling from the Barracks. Talon was shouting pure venom, spittle on his moustache. Baptiste looked distraught, Aaron furious as Abbot Khalid and Forgemaster Argyle finally forced their way through the throng.

  “‘Seraph, what be the meaning o’ this?’ Argyle demanded.

  “Talon pointed his switch at Aaron and Baptiste. ‘Bastard boylovers, I saw them!’

  “‘Saw what?’ Khalid spat. ‘Speak plainly, man!’

  “‘I had work in the Foundry! A batch of sanctus to accompany Greyhand to Charinfel. But I heard tumult in the forge and sought the source. And there I saw them, bare in each other’s arms.’ The seraph stabbed one callused finger as my heart sank. ‘De Coste and Sa-Ismael! Rutting like mongrels in heat!’

  “A dark mutter rumbled among the assembly. Argyle blinked in astonishment, rubbing his chin with his iron hand. ‘What madness is this?’

  “‘No madness.’ Talon spat on the stone. ‘Transgression and treachery, that’s fucking what! Hellbound bastards, the pair of them!’

  “‘Baptiste?’ Khalid asked. ‘Aaron? Of what does Seraph Talon speak?’

  “My belly was curling into a small cold knot as I saw the lovers exchange a desperate glance. Aaron was afeared, heartsick, watching all he’d trained for going up in smoke. Baptiste’s jaw was clenched, flame-scarred hands balled in fists. Frère Alonso demanded explanation. I heard Big Phil spit on the ground. De Séverin and Aaron’s other cronies whispering ‘Oathbreakers’ and ‘Boylovers’ and ‘Fucking dandies.’

  “And though I knew it foolish, still I couldn’t remain mute. Aaron was my brother. Baptiste my friend. I knew not what I’d say, yet still, I pushed through the throng. But the young smithy caught my eye, and the look on his face begged me to be still.

  “‘This was my doing!’ he declared.

  “Baptiste stood taller, met the Forgemaster’s eyes.

  “‘Aaron was in his cups after the feast, Master. I took advantage, I admit it.’

  “Argyle’s lip quivered with rage. ‘You broke your holy oath to San Mich—’

  “‘I broke no oath. I swore to love no woman, and to that I hold.’

  “‘To lay in sin out of wedlock is sin enough! But to lay with another man is a sin doubled!’ Talon shouted. ‘And on holy fucking ground? With the Empress abed in the valley below, no less? You shame us all, you cock-gobbling little whoreson!’

  “The mob growled in agreement, the tide around us turning dark.

  “‘This is mortal sin, Baptiste,’ Khalid growled. ‘You damn your soul with it.’

  “‘I know the Testaments name it so, Abbot. But God shall decide my fate upon my day of judging, no other.’ The young smithy glanced to his lover, and my heart ached at the pain in his eyes. ‘But Aaron is blameless. He was soaked with drink. Befuddled with the pain of his ink. He knew not what he did. I beg you spare him for it.’

  “I looked to Aaron. The lordling’s eyes downturned to the snow at his feet. All he’d worked for hung in the balance. His very life might be at risk here. And I knew he stood back on that bridge in Coste then. Laure Voss smiling as she circled the edge of our light.

  “It’s not my fault, Papa. I didn’t want it. Sacha made me, Papa. Sacha forced me.

  “Aaron shook his head. Bracing himself as if to throw a punch.

  “‘No,’ he whispered.

  “‘Aaron…’ Baptiste pleaded.

  “‘No,’ he said again, firmer, looking Khalid and Argyle in the eye. ‘Baptiste speaks lies to spare me punishment. But only because he loves me. As I love him.’ His voice rose over the growing clamor. ‘And that is no fucking sin!’

  “‘Whoresons!’ cried Frère Charles, and ‘Take them to the Bridge!’ roared Frère Alonso, and the mob surged forward. I fought against them, crying out as rough hands seized Baptiste and Aaron, blows falling like rain as Khalid bellowed for order. I punched and flailed, all descending into chaos when a pistol shot rang out over the tumult.

  “BOOM.

  “Stillness fell. Turning, I saw Greyhand, his smoking wheellock raised in the air. His good eye was bloodshot and pouched in shadow. But his hand was steady.

  “‘Still yourselves, Brothers.’

  “‘But they’re sinners, Frère!’ Lil Phil spat. ‘Bastard oathbreakers!’

  “‘They’ve admitted guilt, brother,’ Frère Alonso said. ‘This sin is theirs to own!’

  “‘It is,’ Greyhand nodded. ‘But Aaron de Coste is still my apprentice ’til he swears the silver rite before God and San Michon. I’ll not see him judged by the madness of the mob.’

  “‘Greyhand speaks truth, Brothers!’ Khalid bellowed. ‘That this sin warrants sanction is not in doubt! But no measure shall be meted without prayer and contemplation! Lock them both beneath the Cathedral!’ The abbot gazed around the throng, eyes flashing. ‘We march tomorrow! Look to your own reflections, and your own souls! For soon all of us may stand bare and bloodied before God’s judgment!’

  “Rough hands dragged Aaron and Baptiste to the Cathedral, led by Seraph Talon. The rest of the mob lingered like carrion eaters above a battlefield, unsatisfied, but unwilling to break faith with Khalid. And with muttered curses, they began drifting back to Barracks.

  “I remained there in the chill. The memory of Astrid’s lips lingering with the blood on my tongue. But Greyhand lingered also, Archer perched upon his good shoulder. The falcon peered at me with golden eyes, gave a rasping screech. I looked at the place my master’s swordarm had been. The gulf between us. The words unspoken.

  “‘Master…’

  “‘Did you know?’ he asked, his voice like old boots on gravel.

  “I wanted to tell him the truth. I wanted to trust him as once I had. He’d been a cruel bastard with me, no doubt. But unlike my stepfather, Greyhand’s cruelty served a purpose. There’s a difference between being ground underheel and ground on a whetstone. I was harder and better than I’d ever been because of him, and I wanted to beg forgiveness for my disobedience in Coste. Despite saving that girl’s life, I wanted to tell him I wished I could have taken it all back. To ask if he blamed me as I blamed myself.

  “‘What will become of them?’ I asked instead.

  “Greyhand narrowed his goo
d eye, empty sleeve whipping in the wind.

  “‘I will plead for clemency. But the Order’s rules are clear. They will suffer the fate of all oathbreakers upon Khalid’s return. Aaron will be taken to the Bridge, bound to the wheel, and flayed with silvered thorns until nothing remains of the aegis that marked him as part of this Brotherhood. And then, they will both be cast out of San Michon.’

  “‘But that’s madness! Baptiste is the finest smith in the monastery! And Aaron was set to be inducted among the brethren on the morrow!’

  “‘Baptiste broke his vows,’ Greyhand spat. ‘And speak not with a weasel’s tongue about man and woman, he knew full well it was wrong. And Aaron knew also. It’s a fool who plays at the precipice. But only the prince of fools blames another when he falls.’

  “The wind sang a heartbroken hymn. A part of me couldn’t believe Aaron and Baptiste had been reckless enough to meet again so soon after I’d discovered them. But I’d risked the same myself with Astrid tonight, thinking I might be going to my death tomorrow. I couldn’t fault my brother for doing the same. My chest ached at all of this. But I tried to take solace in the Faith, as I’d always done. Whatever became of Aaron and Baptiste, that was the Almighty’s will, was it not? They’d broken the law of God, hadn’t they?

  “I thought of Astrid again, the taste of our collision lingering on my lips. I felt like I’d had cold water dashed over my head, the want I’d been drenched with now sobered by the certainty of how foolish it had been. How selfish. How dangerous.

  “Chloe, the falling star, the bloodscript—all of it told me we had a greater role to play in this. Was it right to risk all that? Wasn’t it the darkest kind of wicked?

  “No sin so dangerous as the sin that is chosen.

  “No sin so glorious as the sin that is shared.

  “But still …

  “‘Master … I don’t know if I can ride to Charinfel and leave Aaron behind to rot in a cell.’

  “‘Good,’ he growled. ‘Because you’re not riding anywhere, de León.’

  “I blinked, meeting Greyhand’s cold stare. ‘Master, I don—’

  “‘You don’t get to call me Master, boy. Not anymore. I told you in Coste that you’d never hunt as my apprentice again.’ He walked closer to me, a strip of dark leather about the place where his eye should have been. ‘You thought I’d forgotten? That perhaps the Wraith in Red had knocked the thought loose from my skull while she ripped my arm off and tore the eye out of my head?’

  “‘I saved your life.’

  “‘And cost me these,’ he said, waving to eye and arm.

  “‘Master, I’m sorry f—’

  “Greyhand’s fist collided with my stomach like a battering ram to a city’s gate. Hitting my knees, I gasped as he smashed a backhand across my face, sending me sprawling in the snow. I tried to scramble to my feet, but his boot collided with my ribs, left me curled on the freezing stone in agony.

  “‘Damn your apology, boy,’ he hissed, slapping the hollow socket at his shoulder. ‘This is the Almighty’s will, and I accept it as a faithful servant should! What I will not accept is an apprentice who seeks his own glory when he should seek God’s!’

  “‘I d-don’t—’

  “‘Of course you do! You spoke so tonight before the Empress herself! Even now, even here, your first concern isn’t for your brothers who march toward war and death without you, but that you’ll be left behind! You have no patience, de León! No discipline! You do not think, save to think that you know best! Well, you will learn to think, boy! And I will ensure you have all the time in the world to do so!’

  “The frère eased back, taking a grip on his growing rage.

  “‘Better to die a man than live a monster, we say. But there are many kinds of monsters in this world, boy. A man does what he must. A monster does what he wills. A man serves his God. A monster serves only himself. And I do not ride with monsters.’

  “I spat blood off my tongue, fangs bared in my rage. But Greyhand only scowled.

  “‘While your brothers are gone, choose which you will be.’

  “And with that, he turned his back, and left me bleeding in the snow.”

  XII

  NOW DANCE WITH ME

  “SAN MICHON WAS empty as my sister’s grave, my heart, heavy as the stone that marked it.

  “Khalid, Talon, and the other silversaints had set off at dawn, marching northwest to the song of silver horns. Golden banners billowed in the twice-biting winds, men and wagons and horses charging to Avinbourg’s defense and the murder of the Forever King. Greyhand and my fellow initiates had set out soon after, a thousand soldiers behind, heading toward the gambit at Charinfel. I’d watched it all from Heaven’s Bridge, columns of men streaming like ants across the chill grey snow. And when they were out of sight, I’d spat over the drop into the waiting Mère, cursing beneath my breath.

  “Four days, I skulked about the monastery like a ghost. Aflame with the injustice. Aaron and Baptiste were locked beneath the Cathedral until Khalid returned, and I tried to visit. But Keeper Logan barred the way, informing me that Seraph Talon had forbidden anyone should see ‘them bastard boylovers.’ Prioress Charlotte held the key to their silver-shod cells, and she visited only to feed them, and to give Aaron his nightly sacrament.

  “I attended mass every eve in an almost-empty Cathedral, avoiding Astrid’s eyes. I wasn’t ashamed of what we’d done. I dreamed of it nightly. But I was ashamed at the punishment I’d been meted, and boychild that I was, I feared I’d be the lesser in her eyes—to have been left behind while my brothers fought to decide the fate of the empire.

  “I tried filling daylight hours in the Library, but the map upon the floor was a constant reminder of the battle to come, and besides, Archivist Adamo was a horrid bastard to be around. He was the kind of librarian who believes the best libraries were ones bereft of people. The sight of orderly shelves was a joy to him. Someone dog-earing a page was a fucking nightmare. It’s a strange truth, but some folk enjoy the notion of owning books more than reading them, and I soon tired of him glowering at my back.

  “So in the end, I spent most days praying in the Cathedral, asking God and Mothermaid to grant me humility. Patience. Serenity. I found none of it, no matter how hard I begged. I filled the rest of my time in Barracks, staring at that scrap of parchment we’d stolen in Coste. Looking at the map of the Forever King’s invasion, I could feel wheels spinning, the machinations of minds centuries deep behind them.

  “Had Laure Voss meant for us to find this map?

  “Had we been hunting her, or had she been baiting us?

  “All Shall Kneel.

  “Despite my prayers, I burned with fury at it all. And finally, I hurled the parchment to the floor, spitting every curse I could conjure. I felt like stabbing someone so something else could bleed. After all my trials, I’d been left in the rear like a disobedient child, and a part of me supposed that’s exactly what I’d been. But I’d not disobeyed my master purely out of pride. I’d saved Véronique de Coste’s life. I’d saved his life for Godsake, Aaron and Talon besides.

  “But where had it got me? Despite all Greyhand had warned me about, I did want to prove myself. I did want glory. And to be denied it because I’d refused to consign an innocent girl to her coffin filled me with rage. In the end, it got the better of me. And with nothing else to loose it upon, I loosed it on the things about me.

  “Like a fucking child.

  “I smashed my cot to splinters. Hurled my war chest like an unwanted toy. And finally, I turned to the wall and punched it. Again. Again. Feeling my knuckles rip and skin pulp, the pain of my bones grinding on stone overwhelming the hurt of the notion that perhaps this was my fault. I was born of sin, after all. And I’d indulged more than my fair share, God knew. Perhaps he was punishing me at last.

  “I fell to my knees, gasping and spent. The wall was dented and cracked, my knuckles shredded. I held up my hands, watching blood running red and thick down my fing
ers, spattering on the floor, on that cursed scrap of crumpled parchment that had cost me so much. And squinting through my shameful tears, at last, I saw it.”

  “… The blood,” Jean-François realized.

  Gabriel nodded. “Oui.”

  “… It was moving.”

  “Of course it was,” Gabriel sighed. “By some dark chymistrie, my blood took on a will of its own, sinking into the parchment and exposing the message hidden upon it.”

  “The sin of pride, de León.” The historian smiled. “Ever it served you well.”

  “Or the devil loves his own, vampire.” Gabriel shrugged. “Either way, I picked up the parchment with shaking hands. And on the flip side of Voss’s map, just as I’d seen in the Library’s forbidden section with Astrid and Chloe, the blood formed itself into words.

  “In justice and hope, no hope there be,

  “In mercy and bliss, no bliss for thee,

  “In death and truth, no truth I see,

  “Through blood and fire, now dance with me.

  “I stared down at those words as if to burn a hole in them, my mind all atumble. This was a secret message from Laure Voss, meant for the eyes of the Forever King himself.

  “But what did it mean?

  “I was already waiting in the Great Library that night as Astrid and Chloe stole inside, careful as cats. I stepped from the shadows before the door was even closed behind them, that scrap of parchment in hand, the writing now faded to naught.

  “‘This is it,’ I said.

  “The pair both startled as I spoke, Chloe fumbling with her wheellock, Astrid’s hand pressed to her breast. ‘Oh, you cunting bastard, Gabriel…’

  “‘This is the answer. Look.’ The girls watched, wincing as I sank my teeth into my thumb hard enough to break the skin. And dropping the blood onto the parchment, I held it up in the dim light so the sisternovices might see that riddle take shape once more.