Zhun had followed the false advisor, tailing the vampire from place to place for well over a month. Usually, that was more than enough time to learn whatever secrets there were to be found, but the vampire hid his secrets well. It seemed the assassins were learning something new about him every day. The vampire’s plots went deeper than they had thought. It was clear to Adrian that this mole had been digging for much longer than “Drae’s” existence. It was only within the last few days, when Adrian ordered Zhun to dig into the other plots the vampire was a part of that they learned just how long he had been in Hell. It came to the new king’s attention that this false advisor had been the one to ignite the civil wars in Hell all those years ago. He even had a hand in convincing Damien to go to Earth to expand, thus beginning Earth’s third World War. Adrian’s anger at the vampire was growing, but he had to be sure to catch him in the act so he could out him as a traitor. So, he sat in the endless meetings and delegations, waiting for the vampire to slip.
During one meeting, the door opened quietly, only drawing the attention of those facing it. Kizrack came waddling in and made straight for Adrian. The king silenced the room and leaned so the imp could whisper in his ear.
“We’ve found something, boss,” the imp breathed.
“What is it?” Adrian asked quietly.
“Better to show you, but it involves our favorite advisor.”
Adrian nodded to the imp and motioned for him to wait by the door. He stood to address the gathered advisors and said, “Kizrack has informed me that one of you is not who he says he is, and he says he found proof. If you wish to be granted a chance to confess and tell me the truth of what you have been up to, now is the time. If not, know that my punishment will be swift and without remorse.” He stared at the advisors, silently hoping that Drae would make things easier on himself, but also hoping to string the vampire up by his entrails. They all exchanged confused glances, but none came forward. “Very well,” Adrian said. “Continue without me. I’ll be back shortly for the guilty party.” As he walked toward the door, he gave a nearly imperceptible nod to Zhun, who stood invisible near the door. Kizrack led him out of the room and down the hall toward the part of the tower that held the personal chambers of the advisors.
“All is going pretty close to plan, boss,” Kizrack said in a whisper.
“Meaning I’m not going to like what happens in a few minutes,” Adrian muttered. They had formed a plan to expose Drae by offering the vampire an opportunity to assassinate the new king, and they were banking on the idea that Adrian could not die. It was a risky plan, and one that could easily fail, but it was the best plan they had to force the vampire’s hand. As if on cue, an unassuming demon came around a corner down the hall. Adrian recognized the disguising spell work of the vampire and could almost smell the residual teleportation energy coming off of his body. Adrian kept his gaze ahead, appearing to ignore the coming demon. As they neared each other, the assassin spotted a flash of steel out of the corner of his eye, and there came a stabbing pain in his back. The very tip of the blade poked through the front of his leather armor and dripped blood. He could feel the rest of the blade resting where his heart used to be, and he almost laughed. Reacting to the assault, the new king summoned his sword from its pocket dimension and swung around to face the assailant. The false demon’s eyes widened in surprise, but he stood his ground.
“What’s your real name, vampire?” Adrian asked, pulling the silver dagger from his back. He handed it to Kizrack without taking his eyes off of the disguised vampire.
“That should have killed you,” the would-be assassin stated. His demeanor was much calmer than Adrian would have expected. As he watched, the vampire’s disguise fell away, revealing the tall, slender vampire’s true form. His white hair and pale skin were contrasted by the fine black clothes he wore. His red-orange eyes blazed with hatred. “My name is Helgrathin, and I am to assume I am caught?” The question came out with a coy smile.
“Yes,” Adrian replied. “And it is up to you how you want this to go. Either we can give you a trial and find you guilty of your crimes - and they are many - and execute you, or I can execute you here and now for the attempt on my life.”
Helgrathin smirked. He drew a short sword from his robes and brandished it at Adrian. “Kill me or not, there is far more at stake here than just my life. Even if I die here today, I have set in motion everything that will topple your entire kingdom. My people may be afraid of you now, but soon, there will be nothing left of your dynasty to fear.”
“How about you tell me what you’ve done, and I may just banish you back to Earth,” Adrian offered.
“My life does not mean enough to me that I would take that offer, whether you meant it or not. I prefer to stand and face you now that I’ve already drawn blood. I will be honest, though… you smell different now.”
“That’s not at all creepy,” Adrian muttered, shifting into a ready stance and gripping his sword in both hands. He moved his weight to the balls of his feet and bent his knees, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. “Kizrack, go and get Zhun.”
The imp nodded and ran off, making a show of running back to the meeting room.
“Just you and me now, Helgrathin,” Adrian said, staring into the vampire’s eyes.
“I’m waiting on you, little prince.”
They stared at each other for several moments, until Adrian’s impatience got the better of him. He sprang forward, cutting a wide arc toward Helgrathin’s stomach. The vampire shifted his footing and brought his short sword around to effectively block the attack. He skidded backward from the sheer power of the blow, but held his ground. Adrian brought his sword back and stabbed at the vampire’s chest. The attack was parried, sending the sword streaking past the vampire’s left shoulder, leaving Adrian open to assault. There came a searing pain and Adrian realized he had been stabbed in the side. He felt his kidney on that side rupture. As the dagger was ripped out, the wound closed, stopping the pain and loss of blood. He pulled back, taking a few cautious steps away from Helgrathin, who was now wielding the short sword and a dagger. The new king was forced to rethink this encounter. He was aware that none of the wounds he had suffered so far would kill him, but he was silently cursing himself for leaving himself so open to attack. It was sloppy, and he knew better. Adrian resumed his ready stance, knees bent, weight on the balls of his feet, and waited.
Still smirking, Helgrathin came in for the attack, stepping into his spinning routine. His blades were a blur as he advanced, but Adrian saw the pattern. There were only three variations to the vampire’s motions, and they all came in a sequence. One, two, three, one, two, three. The new king likened it to a waltz, and let his mind count out the rhythm. He tensed his muscles in anticipation for the coming attack and stepped into the proper block. His sword was in place well before the vampire even made the attack. Metal rang on metal and the assassin stepped into a quick slice, aiming for the vampire’s thigh. His routine so quickly interrupted, Helgrathin was unable to react in time to turn the attack aside, taking a deep slash through the muscle in his thigh. He fell to one knee and used the momentum to roll away from Adrian, who was preparing another swing. The assassin clipped the vampire’s shoulder with the tip of his blade, but the wound was small.
Helgrathin stood on a shaking leg, obviously pained from the vicious cut. Blood poured from the wound, and the vampire’s foot slipped on the stone floor as he tried to step toward Adrian. The assassin made a quick maneuver and used the vampire’s downward momentum against him. He kicked Helgrathin in the jaw with an upward motion, reversing the vampire’s direction. He flipped backwards and fell with a thud onto his back. Adrian was standing over him in an instant. Helgrathin was grimacing from the pain and spat out a few teeth. He showed a bloody grin to Adrian before lashing out with an empty hand. Before Adrian could react, the vampire had grabbed his ankle and pulled sharply. The assassin fell onto Helgrathin, who sank his fangs into the Adrian’s calf. Adrian grunted f
rom the pain and swung the pommel of his sword into the vampire’s temple. Stunned, Helgrathin let go, but not before getting a mouthful of Adrian’s blood. Adrian clambered to his feet and inspected his leg. The puncture wounds were already closed, but a light warmth was running up the assassin’s leg.
“Oh, you son of a whore,” Adrian swore. Helgrathin only laughed and rose to his feet. The wound on his thigh was beginning to close very slowly, aided by the small amount of blood stolen from the assassin.
“Your hatred of my kind is almost legendary,” Helgrathin said, wiping the blood from his face. His jawbone snapped back into place, and he looked less weary. “Let’s see how you like being one of us.” He began stepping toward Adrian, sword spinning its waltz like cadence. Adrian lifted his sword and realized it felt heavier. His entire body felt weak from the venom coursing through his veins of its own volition.
“Death is too good for you,” he hissed, rage building in his voice. “I’m going to personally drag you into the Pits myself, and I am going to be the first to carve your body into bits while you live and scream.”
A brief flash of fear slowed Helgrathin’s advance, and Adrian snapped to the opportunity. He lunged, sword leading, and expertly sent the blade through the vampire’s spinning routine. There was a tiny hole in his defenses, and Adrian slammed his sword through it, driving the weapon into the vampire’s chest. He pierced his lung with the attack, and he kept the up the momentum. Helgrathin was driven backward into the obsidian wall of the hallway and Adrian sent his sword through the stone, pinning the vampire in place. With his hands free, Adrian vented his anger by repeatedly punching the vampire in the face. He completely ignored the pain from the vampire stabbing him in the stomach over and over again. The wounds continued to heal after each stab, and Adrian was far too angry to care anyway. It wasn’t until the stabbing had stopped, and there was the clatter of metal on stone that Adrian paused, realizing the vampire was either unconscious or dead As soon as he did, Helgrathin’s arms shot forward and grabbed Adrian by the armor and pulled him close with surprising strength and speed. Adrian could not react quickly enough to avoid the vampire’s fangs sinking into his exposed neck. He felt the vampire suck the remaining blood from his arteries, and the strength left his body with each ounce taken. Eventually, Helgrathin let Adrian slump to the stone floor, lifeless and limp. He ripped the sword from the wall and out of his body, tossing the weapon to the floor.
“Step one is complete,” the vampire spat. Without another thought for the assassin, the vampire teleported away.
Kizrack and Zhun lifted their king’s lifeless corpse from the floor, enacting an invisibility field to keep the rest of the tower from seeing them carry him back to his quarters. They moved in silence through the tower and finally made it back to the assassin headquarters and Adrian’s room. After laying him on his bed, they moved to the common room.
“Well, that went a little sideways,” Zhun commented. Her displeasure about using Adrian as bait was obvious from the start, but it paid off. Helgrathin was exposed and was likely in hiding.
“No kidding,” Kizrack said, letting out a heavy sigh.
“I suppose now we wait for him to wake up,” Zhun breathed. Her tone was low and unhappy. “He’s really going to be upset when he does, though.”
“Can he even be infected, though?” Kizrack asked. “I mean, normally, demons are immune to vampire venom.”
“He’s not a demon anymore, remember?” Zhun reminded. “Plus, you felt the fever just like I did. His body feels like it’s on fire. You know as well as I do that he is going to wake up as a vampire.”
“You’re right,” the imp sighed. “Let’s go get something for him to drink when he wakes up. Don’t want a starved vampire running around Hell…” Zhun and Kizrack left the headquarters to find some blood for their new king while he lay on his bed, slowly coming back to life.
Jake and Sara met with Fafnir and Fenrir in a large house situated on top of a hill overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The house was one of the new additions since the war, and its hill looked out over what used to be Western California. The bustling super-metropolis of Southern California was only a memory now, having been swallowed by the ocean following a massive earthquake brought on by the falling nuclear bombs and the subsequent melting of the polar ice caps. The force given off by the many bombs raining down on many cities in California caused the tectonic plates to slip, rupturing Earth’s crust and sending everything west of the Sierra Nevada mountain range crashing into the Pacific. The house itself was of old Victorian design, with more modern embellishments. The front door, however, was what stood out the most. It was a twelve foot tall, eight foot wide steel door, heavily banded in steel and iron. The handle was wrought of a metal that Fafnir identified as coming from Hell. The exotic materials spoke of the wealth that went into the house’s construction.
“My father is a bit of a show off,” Fenrir said, offering an apologetic smile. He reached out and placed his hand on the door and waited for a response. The loud scrape and thunk of a heavy lock being slid aside came a few seconds later, and the door swung inward on silent hinges. They were greeted by someone who made the door’s size seem like a necessity. The huge man, roughly ten feet tall and sporting a club that could have been a young tree, looked them over and gave a grunt of welcome. He stepped aside, letting the four enter, and shut the door behind them. Fenrir nodded his thanks to the large man and led the others deeper into the house. On the back porch, sitting at a table in the warm afternoon sun, sat Lycaon, wearing a pair of old jeans and a comfortable T-shirt with a band Jake recognized from before the war. He was barefoot and held a glass of some brown liquid in his hand. He peeked over the rim of his sunglasses at the visitors and smiled.
“Hello, son,” he greeted. “It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”
Fenrir’s face split into a sheepish grin and sat at the table with his father. Four servants came out of the house, three bearing extra chairs, the fourth carrying a tray full of refreshments. Once the other three were seated, Fenrir spoke. “I’ve been well, father. I see you still enjoy your coastal home.”
Lycaon grinned, looking the newcomers over. “Best thing that ever happened, Cali falling into the ocean. My property values skyrocketed. Tea?” He poured four glasses of tea for his guests and slid each one to the recipient before any of them could answer him. Jake graciously picked up his glass and sipped. It was sweet with a hint of lemon. “Can’t entertain guests without good tea,” Lycaon grinned.
“Are you still making the tea yourself?” Fenrir asked.
“Of course, son. I tried letting someone else make it, but it just wasn’t the same. Seems I’m the only one who can really master your mother’s recipe.”
“Naturally,” Fenrir muttered. “How is mom, anyway?”
“Oh, you know, a feisty ball of rage whenever I’m near. Nothing out of the ordinary. What is out of the ordinary, though, is you coming here, and with friends no less.” his customary smile was shadowed somewhat by an underlying anger that Jake was beginning to pick up on. It made him uneasy.
“Well, you know me, father,” Fenrir began, “I only show up when I want something.”
“And what do you want this time?” Lycaon asked, sipping his tea.
“Peace with the dragons,” Fenrir stated. “Nothing much.”
“Is that right?” Lycaon said with a smirk. He looked at Jake and Fafnir. “What’s the occasion, boys?”
“As I’m sure you’re aware,” Fafnir said, “the vampires recently suffered a substantial loss to their numbers.”
Lycaon nodded. “Yeah, I figured something pretty drastic happened. It’s been all over the news for a while now.”
“Exactly,” Fafnir said. “Well, the Firstborn is worried that the vampires will attempt an aggressive expansion, resulting in some serious problems down the road.”
“And you want me and my people to stem the flow of blood sucking monsters,” Lycaon finished. His smil
e was gone now, replaced by an annoyed frown. “I’m gonna be honest, I don’t want to send my boys and girls out to fight and die because some dusty old reptiles are worried.”
“We’re not asking you to send them out to fight,” Fafnir countered, “and even if we were, your people would not be fighting alone. What we want is an alliance between your people and ours. It has been far too long since the option has been on the table, and we do not wish to risk war with you and yours.”
“And what would this alliance entail?”
“Nothing more than an agreement to help as needed, with the promise of reciprocation.”
Lycaon weighed his options. “I have a better offer. I vote we include the vampires in our alliance.” The stunned silence that followed prompted Lycaon to roll his eyes. “What? I’m sick of all this fighting and my people dying. We’re not the savage beasts people seem to think we are. With an alliance between Earth’s mightiest factions, we’ll be unstoppable if the demons decide to attack again. Plus, it’d be nice for someone to have my back once in a while if the need arose.”
“Well,” Fafnir breathed. “That was certainly unexpected. We’ll have to ask the vampires how they feel about that. We’ll also have to find their leader, whoever it may be.”
“Don’t give me that shit,” Lycaon growled. “You know who you need to talk to. And I’m sure she might even agree.”
There was an uncomfortable silence, in which Fafnir and Fenrir exchanged worried glances.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Fenrir said slowly. “I was really hoping that wasn’t the case… Luckily, I know someone who can get us a meeting with her. I’ll get in touch with him today, then we can set up a meeting with him to see about seeing the Countess.”
Jake and Sara exchanged curious glances while Fafnir simply looked increasingly uncomfortable.
“I had hoped she died with the rest of Ibsen’s spawn,” Fafnir muttered.
“Oh, she’s a lot older than he was,” Lycaon grinned. “Hell, she’s almost as old as I am. But she’s also much more agreeable and flexible than Ibsen ever was.”
The Assassin and the Knight Page 32