Liama glanced down at the ground and saw something waltzing in the breeze, not far from the trucks. A reflective surface with brightly colored text. She recognized it: one of Fiya’s protein bar wrappers. She started to gasp, and suddenly she, too, got a shovel in her back.
She limped along, staying at her father’s side, and she smiled.
Thomas looked down at her and raised an eyebrow, still gritting his teeth from the shovel jabbing. He didn’t know why she was smiling and didn’t want her to attract attention either, so he shot her a piercing look, one she recognized to tell her to keep quiet, and it was her final warning. She did her best to hide her sudden burst of hope.
Behind them, as they were herded onto Violess’s Frankentrain, Fiya’s protein-bar wrapper fluttered away into the woods.
Despite the number of train cars Violess’s group cobbled together, they piled all the prisoners into a single passenger carriage. They were relieved it wasn’t a cargo container. Each of them got cushioned seats as if there was an effort that even though they were riding to their doom, they’d at least do it in comfort. Someone locked the doors on both ends of the cars.
Thomas and Liama sat next to each other. They saw Rutger during the march to the train, but he wasn’t taken into their car. “They must want to keep him extra guarded,” Thomas said.
“But he is alive.”
“I know. But to them, he’s more dangerous than we are, so they don’t want to leave him alone.” He thought about the irony of them treating Rutger like a dangerous monster for a moment and almost cracked a smile.
Liama looked around, searching for any of the ghouls or demon host, or worse: Kael. When satisfied that she saw none of them, she leaned into her father’s ear and whispered, “She’s alive, too.” She smiled like she was letting her father in on the big secret that Santa was hitting their house next. She struggled to contain her excitement to avoid attracting attention.
He raised his eyebrows and paused, thinking about what his daughter just said. And he believed her. He smiled back but kept silent just in case someone was listening. He had truly believed Fiya died in the crash since she wasn’t among the prisoners or with Rutger, but after hearing she was still out there, he realized his poor underestimation and swelled with hope, too.
The train came to life. Slow and crotchety at first, but it wasn’t too long before it hit its speed. Beautiful untouched-by-man scenery passed, and the prisoners watched with morose faces. It left the old station, which nature had been taking back for some time, and curved around a hill.
On the train’s caboose, Fiya sat with her knees curled up to her chest, leaning against the rusted railing. Certain she wasn’t spotted, she tried to rest for a moment. She was tired and exhausted. She wiped fresh vomit from her mouth. She was glad she hurled chunks after the train got rolling, after everyone was on board, because she wasn’t quiet about it.
The wheels grinding the tracks and the engine’s grubbing muffled her sounds of heaving. Her stomach burned. She would’ve curled in a ball had she not had her phone out, now looking at four-percent power left.
Instead of checking news, she sent a message to HQ, but not the same message as before. She furiously typed:
“Dear Assholes. I have not heard back from you in days. I don’t know if I’m blocked or you’re blocked, but things are very bad over here right now, and I’m not just talking about the Ghoul Fever outbreak. There is a plot to raise the demon lord Bahtzuul from the dead, a job you guys didn’t finish, and it’s happening at Glacier Peak, Washington. I’m doing what I can to try to stop it, but since I’ve heard nothing from you, I’M on my own. If I don’t see help soon, to hell with you, consider this my resignation. Probably won’t survive this anyway.”
She hesitated for a moment, debating either to censor herself or add more aggressive language to help get the point across, and then hit the send button anyway. Her phone reached one percent, and she shut off the power.
She curled into a ball and watched the beautiful green countryside pass by as she tried to rest.
Glacier Peak loomed above as the train came to a complete stop. The tracks continued, a little south and then turned west, but the base of the mountain was the end of their line.
Thomas and Liama stayed in their seats and saw Rutger, led by no less than five ghouls plus Kael, with his hands tied behind his back, exiting a car behind theirs. Liama noticed that Kael carried Fiya’s broken sword, tied onto his belt.
Before they could react, the passenger car doors unlocked, and more ghouls with shovels and bats appeared. One carried a machete. Marco appeared with his rifle in hand and signaled for everyone to start moving.
The prisoners begrudgingly complied, including Thomas and Liama who held hands as they were escorted off the train. Liama looked around for a brief moment, pretending she was looking at the wonderful scenery nature provided, but she really looked for any sign of Fiya.
When no wrapper fluttered around, she squeezed her father’s hand tighter and whimpered.
Soon they were marched to a cliff where Violess and two other cloaked figures stood next to an altar. Violess also wore a ceremonial outfit, decorated with red and gold accents and symbols neither Thomas nor Liama understood.
The altar itself was a plain cement slab with legs, but there was a lip at the end that led to a chute, which went over the edge of the cliff. Opposite of the cliff stood the rest of Glacier Peak, with a majestic, frosted snowcap.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen!” Violess called out, with her most pleasant and calm demeanor. She wore a wide, welcoming smile that reminded Thomas of a used-car salesman. She stretched out her arms as if she wanted to give everyone a group hug as her ghouls nudged them closer to the altar. “I hope your ride was agreeable. If you all could just gather around, we can continue to make this as pleasant as possible. Yes, you two in the back, don’t be shy. Everyone participates.”
Thomas stood on his toes to see over the edge of the cliff, but the ghouls kept everyone at a good distance away so they wouldn’t see anything … or be tempted to jump. The prisoners could see only the lush valleys beyond the cliff, but Violess, her two fellow priests next to her, and the spout from the altar were close enough to view what dwelled below. Thomas had a very good guess what was at the bottom of the cliff.
Complacent, Rutger was pushed down to his knees by Kael. Although the tranquilizer still had some time before completely wearing off, he was very aware of his surroundings. He had a front-row seat to the ceremony.
Kael was the only werewolf on-site as he felt no need for the rest of his pack to get further involved … perhaps for their own protection because even Kael wasn’t sure what was going to happen. He didn’t trust anyone, let alone Violess, especially after how she handled Paul DeMatto, even if his hands were dirty.
The ghouls surrounded the prisoners, using their bodies to fence them in, resisting the urge to feast on them. The mere temptation was halted by Violess in their heads, as if she pulled a leash.
Violess’s grin grew wider. “I’m sure all of you guessed you don’t have much time left in this plane of existence, and that is true, no bullshit. I have brought you all here to witness something great today. It has been many centuries since a mortal last laid eye on the Great Bahtzuul, and each of you is here as a sacrifice for His return.” She paused to listen to gasps as if they were a laugh track. “He has been dormant for too long, and the eighteen of you will jog His appetite.”
Then Violess turned to the priest to her left, whose golden eyes met hers. He was pale and gaunt, with hair that seemed to rise from his scalp like white smoke. He held a large wooden box, wider than him, with rope handles.
She pointed to the edge of the cliff. “Tamarin, do the honor of returning the heart, please.”
“As you command,” Tamarin replied, bowing, and then turned to the ladder. He put the box under one arm, which he could barely hold, and descended.
The prisoners watched him disappear bey
ond the cliff.
Violess and the other priest had the best spot to monitor him as he placed the giant husk of a heart in the center of a giant rib cage. She turned back to the unenthusiastic crowd. “As Tamarin places the heart in its rightful place, I will need a volunteer.” She raised her eyebrows, as if actually expecting a reply, but her audience remained silent. Many traded glances, and some shook their heads to each other. “No one? Seriously? It’s a great honor. The greatest honor of the Ceremony.”
Thomas, who had his hands on Liama’s shoulders the whole time, slowly stepped in front of her. He wanted to hide her from view and tried to be subtle about it so he wouldn’t rouse attention.
“Okay … fine,” Violess huffed. She waved a hand in the air, palm side up, and said, “Take the brown girl, as we’re certain she’s a virgin.” There were other children, Violess knew this, but she also wanted to make an example of one of the escapees.
At the hand signal, the perimeter ghouls closed in on Thomas and Liama. He held Liama closer, pushing away one of the ghouls. He looked back up at Violess and yelled, “No! Not her! You don’t need a virgin for this! You just asked for volunteers!”
Violess rolled her eyes, shrugged a shoulder, and replied, “But it’s tradition. And it’s so much sweeter.”
Thomas threw his elbow at a nearby ghoul. “Back the fuck off!”
Rutger looked on, mildly impressed, feeling less of the tranquilizer in him.
One of the other ghouls snatched Liama from Thomas’s hold as he attempted to punch another, and then a shovel came in to knock him on the back of his head. He dropped to the dirt, dizzy.
“I don’t wanna go!” Liama cried, trying to fight the ghoul clutching her, but she couldn’t overpower it.
Rutger wanted to help but halted when he felt the clamp of Kael’s hand on his shoulder, ensuring he stayed in place.
Liama kicked, flailed, and screamed. Her fellow prisoners looked on with fear, too scared to confront the ghouls by helping her. “I said I don’t want to go!” She continued to sob.
They dragged her, kicking and screaming, and placed her on the cement slab. It took three of them to hold her down while another tied her hands together with a zip tie. They did the same with her feet. She squirmed, but the three ghouls successfully held her down.
The other priest held a decorative Damascus steel knife to her throat, and she instantly stopped squirming the second the cold blade touched her skin. Fearing she’d cut herself, she froze in place.
Rutger noticed immediately that the priest had a scary amount of control and intelligence behind him. He was sure the two ghouls in robes were demons occupying the bodies of the dead, just like Violess. He also was positive this Marco character with the rifle was a demon, too. He wondered how many more ghouls here were being occupied by demons. The ghouls wouldn’t be too much of a problem to deal with, even as he was incapacitated, but demons could think and problem solve. They could be unpredictable, instead of the lumbering thugs that were the ghouls.
He was agitated by the sight of his axe strapped to Marco’s backside. Then he noticed Fiya’s broken sword dangling at Kael’s belt and sighed.
Liama thought she was all dried out of tears, but they came flooding back again. She looked around and saw Thomas being hoisted up by two ghouls, like a drunk escorted by two friends. They shook his face, trying to snap him out of the dizzy spell.
Her eyes locked on Rutger, a bloody mess of an old dog fuming with anger and rage. She searched the trees that started at the slope leading up to the cap of Glacier Peak, then looked toward the train and back among the crowd. Her tears soaked the altar as she let go of her last shred of hope. Maybe seeing the protein-bar wrapper was just a fluke? Anyone could’ve been eating it. At last, she looked up at Violess, standing above her, standing near her head.
Violess placed her hand on Liama’s head and gave her a thin smile. She said softly, “I’ll make this quick; you won’t feel a thing.”
Tamarin climbed back up from the ladder, and Violess noticed. She patiently waited for him to get into position, opposite of Hector, and then she turned to face the rest of the crowd. “Okay, let’s get started!” She grinned again. “I’m sure all of you were expecting some sort of prayer or magic words for this ritual, chanting in some old Latin, but, really, to get things rolling we just need the blood, and plenty of it.” She outstretched her hands to the crowd again. “If I can just have everyone kneel?” She waited.
The prisoners were too scared to shiver. They stared blankly at Violess and glanced at each other, unsure if she was really talking to them or her ghouls.
“KNEEL!” Her eyes commanded into a burst of flame and then recomposed herself with a few deep breaths. “Please: presentation matters. When He arrives, you will need to be on your knees.” When she insisted the second time, the ghouls prodded the prisoners until they were on their knees. After all seventeen prisoners were kneeling, the ghouls each got down on one knee, too, as if they had been rehearsing this.
Kael sighed and did the same while keeping his hand on Rutger’s shoulder.
“Excellent. That’s better.” Violess turned to the other robed ghoul near her. “Hector, the knife, please.”
“As you Command,” Hector said with a flat but thick tone. He removed the blade from against Liama’s throat and raised the knife above her, holding it with both hands. The blade curved like a crescent moon.
Violess leaned in to whisper into Liama’s ear. “As I said, no prayers.” She patted Liama’s cold, sweaty head again.
Then, as Hector waited for her signal, the back of his head exploded, and a crackling bang echoed through Glacier Peak Valley, stunning everyone around the altar. The wind swallowed the echo, the mountainside succumbed to silence.
Everyone froze, including Violess, staring with her mouth open as Hector’s body toppled like a tree after a lumberjack hacked it down. The knife flew over the side of the cliff. The metallic clank sound of it hitting a rock below was lost in the now deafening silence.
Hector’s body slowly twisted as he went down, collapsing on the mouth of the spout for the altar, and his robe’s arm with loose sleeves covered Liama’s head.
Violess turned away, her mouth still hung open, and her eyes were wide and frantic. Beyond the perimeter of ghouls, she saw Fiya standing on an elevated rock just in front of the tree line, and she pointed a revolver at Violess with a steady left hand. The holster was belted around her waist. The ghouls looked on, intimidated by the loud blast of the gunshot. Her bright magenta mask seemed to brood at them, and then Fiya broke the silence. “I’m sorry. Did I break your concentration?”
Tamarin did not look impressed. “Get up, Hector!” he demanded, without even giving his partner so much of a glance. His eyes never wavered from Fiya’s revolver.
Violess, however, looked down at Hector, whose giant hole in the back of his head now streamed a steady flow of blood down the spout. She tried to say something but couldn’t get the words to come out.
Tamarin attempted to shake Hector, still keeping his eyes on Fiya.
Violess’s eyes bulged. “They can enchant firearms now?” She looked at Tamarin, who finally tore his gaze away from the hunter in the bright-pink mask. She hissed at him, “Paul never said such a thing!” Then she spun like a viper with steaming eyes and locked onto Rutger, “Paul didn’t say such a thing!”
“I told you: I really didn’t know Paul,” Rutger shrugged, giving her that same small, schoolboy smile that irritated her when she first tried interrogating him.
“I suggest letting these people go,” Fiya demanded. She kept the revolver pointed, now aimed at Kael. “Starting with that ugly mongrel taking his damn hand off the big guy.” Fiya didn’t notice, but many of the prisoners' faces seemed to light up, some with tears of joy. She maintained her focus on her bloody and bruised mentor on his knees.
Kael didn’t flinch. He tapped a finger with a growing claw on Rutger’s shoulder. “Or …?” He playfully repli
ed, as if he were trying to pick her up in a bar. He smirked, and in the split-second he did, his own shoulder burst apart with blood as Fiya nailed him. Another bang crackled in the valley as Kael flew backward, losing his grip on Rutger. He now shared the same dumbfounded look of shock and incomprehension on his face that seemed it would become permanent on Violess.
“That,” Fiya replied.
The gunshot burned, stung, and seemed to inflame the muscle tissue around it. It repeated a throbbing wave as Kael’s senses became numb. His whole right arm went limp. Kael turned to lunge away, and he hadn’t noticed Rutger remove the broken sword from his belt. Kael almost tumbled over himself, clutching his new shoulder wound. His teeth sharpened.
Rutger cut his ropes.
“What are you doing?” hollered Violess at her fleeing muscle. “I’ve seen you take gunshots before; that should’ve been —"
He bared his teeth as he turned to her, blasting his green eyes with rage. “They’re fuckin’ silver bullets, you dumb cunt!” Kael stormed off. If he had been fully transformed, there would have been a tail tucked between his legs as he abandoned the ceremony.
Violess turned to grab Liama, worming her way out from under Hector’s arm and off the altar. Violess stopped when she saw Fiya had the revolver pointed straight at her. She also noticed the other ghouls had put up their hands, a behavior she did not expect of them. Give them a smidge of intelligence so they could take commands, but the drawback apparently was the ability to become cowardly, something Violess had not expected. She glared at them with such malice that she actually thought she felt a heartbeat again in the meat-puppet she inhabited.
In the corner of her eyes, Violess saw the chute from the altar flow with Hector’s oozing blood.
“Again,” Fiya calmly but firmly stated, “I suggest letting everyone go.”
Graveslinger Page 23