Fallen

by James Somers

  Of course, they consisted mostly of the very poor—homeless dregs whose lives were of little value to either Black, or society at large. Given their druthers, many of these hapless poverty-borne wretches might have begged for exactly the release Sinister and his vampires offered. Death, it might be reasoned, was a better alternative to their ceaseless misery and suffering.

  However, Sinister and his Breed cared nothing about the feelings of these poor souls. Neither did they carry out their mission with mercy. A great many had died already in quite gruesome fashion. They were vampires. All they considered was the need for prey having beating hearts and that sweet sustenance flowing through their veins.

  A thousand vampire warriors had descended upon London’s survivors. These unfortunates had spent recent days watching as so many people were taken by mysterious burlap dolls. Now, despite having seemingly escaped this bizarre apocalypse, they had become food for another army.

  Miles flew across London searching for his brothers. He stopped along the way, finding an elderly woman cowering in an alleyway. Only she knew the horrors she had witnessed. When Miles found her, he drank her quickly, dropping her lifeless body as he transformed back to his crow form in pursuit of his master again.

  He finally found them in Whitechapel where a great many of the poor and criminal elements had been left untouched by the dolls. The Breed were ransacking the entire area, scouring the place clean of the living. When the time came for their inevitable push outward, these vampires would be well fed and ready to fight.

  Sinister was not difficult to locate. He was at the forefront of the carnage, not to mention that each vampire had their own recognizable scent. They could locate one another over long distances.

  The vampire prince dropped his current victim as Miles transformed before him. “Where have you been?” Sinister demanded.

  “My lord, I have pressing news concerning your sister,” he said.

  Immediately, Sinister gave Miles his undivided attention. Around them, the carnage continued unabated. Drawing a vampire away from his bloodlust was nearly an impossible task.

  “What has happened?”

  “Black has imprisoned her,” Miles reported, nervously. He wasn’t sure what kind of reaction his news might cause.

  “What are you talking about?” Sinister demanded.

  “She is being kept in the warehouses where the dolls are made, my lord,” Miles continued. “She was beaten and bound there days ago by Black himself.”

  The rage was building in Sinister’s face, his own blood infusing his skin with unbridled fury.

  “Take me to her,” he commanded.

  Miles was unsure whether this might somehow backfire on him but too fearful to refuse. He led his prince across London to the warehouses. In his rage, the raven threatened to overtake and outpace the crow. Miles could barely manage to stay ahead of him. He only hoped not to be implicated in the matter when blame began to drop. The idea of facing either Black, or Sinister had little appeal.

  When Sinister landed among the vampires left guarding the warehouses, Miles noticed the confusion of faces around them. Black had told them about Tom impersonating Sinister before. Was this the true prince of the vampires, or another imposter? Still, they didn’t seem eager to find out.

  None of the Breed dared to oppose Sinister as he marched through them, following the scent of his sister. Miles followed along behind him. What else could he do? He had opened Pandora’s box. He could only wait to find out what happened now.

  Charlotte noticed the familiar scent of her brother moments before the door to her cell was smashed in. Sinister stood on the other side with his right foot still hanging in the air where he had kicked it. Not even this commotion was enough to wake the mortal gentleman from his blood-loss-induced slumber.

  The look upon her brother’s face when he saw her was a mixture of rage and complete horror. He laid his eyes upon here many cuts and bruises. The foul stench of excrement would have also assaulted his senses even before the door was opened. Despite her innocence in the matter, Charlotte felt ashamed for him to look upon her in this condition.

  “What have I done?” he asked himself.

  Sinister stepped into the cell. A flourish of his cloak produced a silver sword. Charlotte recognized the weapon as the same one given unto him by their father many years ago. She wasn’t sure if he intended to end her imprisonment or her life.

  He slashed at the cords binding Charlotte to the stone walls. The silver cut through her bonds like butter. As gravity took control, Charlotte collapsed to the floor. Having had little food or water, she felt as weak as a kitten.

  Sinister caught her immediately, cradling her like a child. “Sister, forgive me,” he whispered.

  Charlotte looked into her brother’s face, finding guilty tears in his eyes. He scooped her into his arms and turned toward the door.

  “I’ll get you back to our father,” he said.

  He strode down the dingy corridor then out into the openness of the warehouse. All around them, Breed warriors had gathered. All eyes were upon Sinister and Charlotte now, though no one stepped forward to interfere with his rescue effort.

  In return, he shot them all icy looks of bitter contempt. Not only had they all betrayed their own people, they had betrayed him as their prince. Miles stood by anxiously.

  “We must leave quickly,” he said, peering in every direction.

  Charlotte knew exactly who the young vampire must be looking for, and they were not to be disappointed. A small spark of flame ignited upon the concrete warehouse floor. It bobbed about like a fiery cricket attempting madly to extinguish itself.

  Sinister stopped in his tracks before the little hopping flame. He set Charlotte upon her feet then stepped in front of her protectively. Drawing his silver sword, he waited.

  “Brother, we must go,” she said from behind him, but he would not budge.

  “Miles, take my sister and go,” Sinister said. “As for me, the time has come to end this.”

  Miles stepped toward Charlotte. The little flame erupted into much more, becoming as large as a man. Sinister raised his sword as Black stepped from the flames, holding the fire still in his upturned palms. Miles transformed into his crow as both Sinister and Charlotte evaded jets of flame thrown by Black. The crow was engulfed and devoured by it while brother and sister found momentary safety.

  “Go, Sister!” Sinister cried as he charged Black.

  Charlotte was too weak to stop his endeavor. A quick transformation to raven form saved her from bolts of lightning thrown haphazardly from Black’s fingertips as he attempted to evade Sinister’s attack. She tumbled midair then shot upward toward one of the windows. Fearful and trembling, Charlotte launched out of the warehouse while a thunderous cacophony resounded below. Her brother had finally turned against Black in order to save her. Had it been possible, the raven would have wept, knowing that her brother would very shortly die having rescued her.

  Sinister circled Black like a panther, his silver sword having already absorbed a great deal of the angel’s lightning. This elegant weapon had been crafted by elves long ago, sealed with magical bonds, and had been given unto him by his father. It had some ability to do damage to Black, but the fact that an angel could not be killed was not lost on him.

  “So, your rebellion has finally come?” Black said, laughing.

  “For your attack on my sister, I would kill you if it were possible,” Sinister said. “But these warriors of the Breed should also know how you sacrificed their brothers knowingly when you destroyed the home of Oliver James. You did not even have compassion toward those who fought for your cause.”

  “Did you honestly expect compassion?” Black asked, amused.

  “I was deceived by you in life, but now, in my death, I see you clearly,” Sinister said.

  Black was about to attack and end this vampire’s ramblings when he noticed the subtle movements of the Breed warriors around him. All of the vampires had cl
osed in, encircling him and Sinister.

  “All of you?” Black asked.

  Sinister smiled as he surveyed the scene. They had been entirely surrounded, and the Breed did not look pleased to hear what their angelic leader had done to their fallen comrades.

  “You will not use the Breed any longer,” Sinister declared.

  “You’re a fool if you think so,” Black countered.

  A single glance to his vampire warriors was all that it took to initiate their attack. The Breed rushed in upon Black while he made no real effort to stop them. Sinister came through them with his sword ready to strike. He drove the blade through Black’s chest, feeling intensely satisfied by this revolution. But it was short lived.

  A vacuum of immense power sucked the vampires in upon the angel, like the gravity of a black hole drawing stars to their doom. Crushed by his power they formed a tortured mass of writhing flesh. A white hot discharge of energy enveloped them all, incinerating everyone and everything in its path, consuming even the warehouse around them.

  A few ragged charred remnants remained of the building along with a fresh crater in the earth. Of Sinister and the vampires with him, not a trace remained to their existence. Alone, Black walked through the red hot embers of destruction. Not a speck of dirt adhered to him in his tailored suit and top hat. Not a trace of any wound could be found to suggest anyone had attacked him at all.

  Reduction

  By far it is easier to come up with a plan of action than it is to actually carry it out. Such was our dilemma. The mysterious good angel had arrived just in time to stop the ceremonial dagger that would have ended Oliver’s life. He had also suggested another way to deny the burlap dolls their spell key, as well as a means of ridding humanity of the fallen angel controlling them. But all of these wonderful events happened to hinge upon Oliver James consigning himself and Black to the spiritual prison of Tartarus.

  Our group had settled upon the plinth inside Lycean’s memorial temple. Above us, the blue flame burned silently, illuminating the entire sphere. Oliver was resigned to his fate. Considering what we had almost done in our attempt to kill him, we could no longer brook any argument for his well being. We had one problem left, however.

  “I just don’t see how we can find him,” Lycean said.

  “Perhaps issue a challenge?” Sophia suggested.

  “If he knows we want him to come, he’ll never show up,” Oliver concluded. “An angel thing, I suppose.”

  “We might attack the dolls?” I offered.

  “But he knows they are spellbound to this world as long as I’m alive here,” Oliver said.

  “Besides, my Lycan brothers and sisters destroyed far more during our attack than we could hope to manage,” Lycean said. “Black never showed his face at all.”

  “And I’ll pass on the torment caused by attacking those dolls, thank you,” Oliver added.

  “Then what can we do?” Sophia asked. “Is there nothing he cares about?”

  Silence.

  “What about the city?” I asked.

  Oliver turned to me. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, he took control of the city for a reason,” I ventured. “For whatever reason, he must want it.”

  “But his dolls are running amok, causing all kinds of damage,” Lycean said. “He doesn’t seem to mind that.”

  “At the very least, we might get his attention,” I said.

  “What are you suggesting, Brody?” Oliver asked.

  “Set fire to the city.”

  I never would have proposed such a drastic plan of action, had it not been for the dire circumstances. But it just seemed to make sense. If we failed to rid the world of Black and his dolls, there would be no humans left alive in London anyway. And even if Black did not care for the city’s real estate value, he might still show up for curiosity’s sake. That would be enough for what we hoped to do.

  Lycean had offered the help of his army in order to do the job of arsonist right, but ultimately we wanted Black to come to Oliver, not some random place where fires were being set by numerous people. So, we rejected that idea in favor of doing the job ourselves. Neither Lycean nor Sophia had the natural ability to start the fires, but they weren’t going to be persuaded to leave us either.

  “Where do we begin?” I asked Oliver.

  “An important place would be best,” he said, “one with a lot of his dolls present to be sure he’s aware of what we are doing. Westminster Palace should do nicely.”

  By the time we returned to the mortal world, it was very dark with a clear sky and a waning moon. Oliver had opened our portal in central London where we walked out to Westminster Palace. With the Thames at our backs, I spotted the Victoria Tower far to my left and the Clock Tower rising before us. The grounds were lit, but had likely remained that way all through the day since the grounds keepers were likely either dead or captured.

  “Where should we start?” I asked Oliver.

  “We should stay together, certainly,” he said. “I think the clock will do since we are nearby already. Should any resistance come our way, use the Extension techniques I taught you.”

  “What should we do?” Lycean asked.

  “Watch for dolls and keep away any that you can, while we get the fires going,” Oliver said. “However, do not make any attempt at attacking Black.”

  “I’ll distract him while you perform the bonding spell,” I offered.

  “Just be sure that you maintain the Extension to protect yourself,” Oliver warned. “The bond should be an easy matter since he has already provided the link to himself through his spell key conjurations. Otherwise, I’m not sure I could get past his wards in order to perform it.”

  I clapped my hands together once. “Right. Let’s get started then.”

  I waited for Oliver to go first. It seemed appropriate, after all. His Extension bubble formed instantaneously while Lycean and Sophia took to their werewolf forms. I was slightly rattled by watching Sophia’s transformation, having never actually been witness before. She became an elegant creature, not quite as powerful in appearance as her father, but deadly nonetheless. They broke away together in order to keep watch over us from a better vantage point.

  Oliver pushed through his bubble, creating a ball of fire that shot away toward the Clock Tower. It hit one of the four faces, shattering most of its milk glass and scattering the flame within. Several successive blasts intensified the damage and the fires beginning to take control within the bell tower.

  Having not done balls of fire before, I opted for a flashier approach at destruction. My Extension formed around me, giving off its nominal azure hue. I conjured lightning strikes which emanated from several locations on the bubble’s surface, striking the tower. The immediate damage was more, but the burning less. I glanced at Oliver to find him hiding a grin.

  “All right,” I said, realizing that flashier might not be better to the task.

  Next, I released a flame that hit the base of the tower. Taking hold, fire began to work its way upward.

  “Much better!” Oliver said over the noise.

  We continued with this method, and after several minutes had not only the Clock Tower burning nicely, but also a fair portion of one of the palace wings as well. Up to now, we had seen no resistance. But that was about to change.

  I heard sounds of fighting as I paused to pick a new target. Dolls by the hundreds boiled out of the windows of the Westminster. Lycean and Sophia had already gone on the attack, hoping to give us time, but it would not be enough. So many dolls had already run around them.

  We remembered too late the effect this fighting would have on Oliver. He was holding on, but in pain already.

  “Tell them to break off!” Oliver cried from within his Extension.

  I disappeared then reappeared near Lycean, creating a flash of light that broke up the violence momentarily. He reacted, attacking before he realized who was there.

  “You’re hurting Oliver!” I shouted.<
br />
  If a werewolf can have a shocked expression then Lycean managed it. We had been so concerned with trying to get Black that we forgot our vulnerability again. We had no defense against the wave of dolls now coming for us.

  “Take Sophia and get her somewhere safe,” I pleaded. “There’s nothing more you can do here.”

  Lycean nodded then tore through the crowd of dolls coming for us in order to get Sophia. I had no time to see if they made it to safety. Magical dolls were crashing into my Extension bubble. Fortunately, they couldn’t get through, but I still couldn’t set more fires while they were crowding me in. I would hit them and wound Oliver again.

  I could see that Oliver was in a similar predicament with dolls throwing themselves at his bubble repeatedly. Then I had an idea. I might not be able to harm them, but I could throw them around. I threw out my hands against the inner surface of my Extension. The bubble bounded, throwing Dolls on the outside yards away. More replaced them, but I threw them away as well.

  Oliver had spotted my method by now and was doing the same. However, each volley thrown away was replaced by another wave. Then those that had been thrown were able to come back after them. This cycle would ultimately do us no good.

  Then I remembered the Thames at our backs. My next wave of dolls was hurled into the river. There they struggled against the current, soaking up water like sponges They flailed and screeched furiously, but still the mighty river took them away. They had not been destroyed, but they also couldn’t return.

  I cried out to Oliver, “Throw them into the river!”

  He complied, and soon we had cleared away the dolls that had come from the palace. Hundreds of burlap fiends struggled to be free of the waters. But, they would be miles downstream before they ever managed it.

  Oliver and I stood alone between Westminster and the Thames. Our fires were beginning to rage well, but we had more to do.

  “Do you think he’ll come?” I asked from within my bubble.

  “We’ve certainly gotten his attention by now,” he said.

  “Indeed you have.”

  It was Black’s voice that had spoken. We turned to find him approaching from the direction of Victoria’s Tower. He was finely dressed in the attire of a gentleman—in complete contrast to his character. He examined the burning tower and palace wing with mild amusement.