Souls Collide: Book 1 of The Soul Wars

by J. D. Blackrose

  His voice cracked as he began. “Hail Mary, full of grace…Je vous salue, Marie…Our Father, who art in heaven…Notre Pere, qui es aux cieux…”

  He finished the Rosary and blacked out, waking when it was cold and dark. Moonlight slipped through chinks in the rock. His stomach gurgled, the sound loud to his ears in the small space, a space he now believed would be his crypt. The gurgling was replaced by convulsions as his empty stomach cramped. He resigned himself to death, beseeching the Lord to stop his suffering.

  His prayer was answered, but not in the way he expected.

  “Mon ami? Is there someone in here? I can hear a heartbeat.”

  “I’m here,” Henri whispered, hoping that someone who could hear a heartbeat could hear his voice. “Gaspard? Brother?”

  “Non. But soon you will call me Father…”

  That was when Henri knew he’d been discovered by a vampire.

  He squeezed his eyes shut as the vampire shifted boulders and scraped away at the sediment. Henri then watched as a thin, white hand with long, filthy nails scooped dirt, removing enough so that the vampire could lay on his side and look Henri in the eye with his own.

  The vampire’s eye was an unusual hazel framed by silky, thick lashes. He spoke in a raspy voice that hurt Henri’s ears.

  “I will get you out, but you must promise me one thing.”

  “What?” mouthed Henri, too dry to speak.

  “You must stay with me forever.”

  Henri closed his eyes in an unspoken consent, not knowing if he had five more minutes much less forever.

  At every slip of the rock, Henri believed it was his end. As the vampire moved them, the boulders bounced farther down, booming in the night, and twice a slab fell down near his head, blocking off even the moonlight, leaving him encased in his stygian tomb, turning each moment of vague hope back into despair.

  It went on like this for an endless amount of time until Henri’s entire head was clear of the debris, then his torso. The vampire leaned in, shoved his hands under Henri’s armpits letting Henri’s head drag to the ground, and hauled the rest of Henri free. The vampire rolled Henri onto his back and did a survey of the damage.

  Henri lifted his head and looked at the vampire, shocked at what he saw. The vampire’s hair was long and oily and hung over his right eye. When the vampire brushed his hair back, Henri gasped in horror at the gaping hole where the vampire’s eye should have been and the ropy scars that ran from the vampire’s forehead to neck.

  Henri lifted his head and gazed at his own body, numbly noting the mutilation. His torso was twisted almost ninety-degrees to the left, his hips dislocated and separated from his lower spine. His legs were crushed, knees pushed to hyperextension, and as he had imagined, his feet were compressed into crude triangles, giving him the appearance of having bloody flippers.

  The vampire spooned Henri’s broken body, cuddled next to him like a lover, and then bit into Henri’s neck and drained him dry.

  Henri had woken with blood in his mouth, a stunning vision of the night sky, and a prickling in his feet.

  The memory ended. Then…

  Henri felt the rock on top of him all over again, the weight of it on his back and shoulders. Blood streamed into his eyes from the gashes on his forehead.

  “No!” Henri yelled, flinging himself backward, cutting the link between his and Amos’ hands. Amos staggered back, his hand burning in a blue glow, a remnant of the merging that had allowed Amos to live Henri’s nightmare.

  Lawd almighty that was a bad’un. That happen’d to you?

  Henri nodded, unable to speak, perspiring a crimson sweat, wondering if that was his eventual fate, to live that experience over and over again. His knees knocked at the thought. He stilled his shaking extremities and regained his feet.

  What happen’d to your vampire daddy? You ain’t still with him so guessin’ that forevah thing didna work out.

  “We parted company.” Henri wiped his brow and shook his hand, flinging the blood-laden sweat onto the ground.

  Amos’ eyes went wide, and his body stretched like an image in a fun house mirror, then he collapsed to the ground, writhing like a catfish on the line. He flashed in and out of the physical plane, a ghostly candle caught in a breeze. Other ghosts, ones Henri hadn’t even known were there, surprised him by filtering forward, arms outstretched, dripping ectoplasm in glistening waves onto the lawn. It clung like morning dew to the blades of grass only to evaporate in an eye blink. These specters flared into reality for a second and then disappeared back to the metaphysical plane, like stars winking out of existence.

  Henri watched the specter’s mouth open and back-stepped several feet. His bloody sweat ran in rivulets now, and as each drop hit the ground, the ghosts flickered back into the physical sphere, staying a bit longer each time.

  Yer blood feeds us! It makes us stronger! Give us more.

  Henri hesitated for a moment, thinking of what this might mean. He licked his lips and said, “What’s in it for me?”

  We gettin’ justice soon. Gotta think anythin’ makes trouble for the lady Beauchamp gotta rile up your brotha.

  Henri crossed one arm over his chest and used the other hand to cradle his chin, then gave a jerky nod.

  “Blood for you now equals chaos for Gaspard later?”

  Dozens of ghosts shimmered in the night, nodding their heads. They hovered near him, and though he didn’t have to breathe, he had the sensation of being suffocated. He lifted his wrist to his teeth, readying to tear the skin when the ghosts swarmed him, biting and sucking, stealing the life force that he himself had stolen. They raked his arms and gnawed on his face, slurping his blood as if they were vampires themselves.

  The ghosts depleted Henri until he was unconscious, crumpled on the ground, arms and legs askew. They departed without a backward look at their benefactor, baying their defiance to the night.

  Their howl carried up the hill to the Beauchamp mansion, and the house ghosts shivered in fear. Sylvester, Martin, and Slinky stood next to Nathan, minding their post in the kitchen, floating along, transparent wisps framed by the window. The echo of the ghosts’ shrieks sank into their center, and their anxiety became something more. It became full-on fear, that burning fear that catches your breath and makes you want to stand still like a rabbit, begging God that the monster won’t see you, bargaining everything you have to escape whatever demon was in your path.

  The strength of that fear consumed them, encased them, and wormed its way into their hearts. They absorbed it, soaking it up like a dry plant in the rain. The fear escalated to panic, panic for Adelaide, for themselves, and for anyone who would meet the creatures who made that deranged howl.

  Disturbed beyond anything in their memories, the ghosts did the equivalent of pacing. They wandered back and forth through the hallways, up the stairs, through the bedrooms, and back down to the living room, dining room, and kitchen. When they completed a circuit, they started again, having no other way to fight terror. The walls shook, and the chandeliers loosened in their casings, knocking crystals together in a discordant tune.

  Nathan glided through the kitchen on yet another sweep of the house and kept going on his rounds. He slipped past the big kitchen table, the shelves of collectable mason jars, the pantry and…bumped into the swinging doors that led to the dining room. The other three ghosts flew around the corner, saw Nathan, and careened to a stop, bumping into each other. They stared at each other in stunned surprise. Nathan reached out one hand toward the door and pushed the right panel, shocked when he could feel the wood under his fingertips, and the door responded to his touch, swinging open.

  The four were dumbfounded and terrified. What magic is this, they wondered. What was happening to them, and why? The alarm at this new development added to their fear, and when Nathan looked down, he realized he could feel the floor under his feet.

  This can’t be good, he thought.

  15

  Henri came to when his fingers st
arted to burn. He logrolled under a tree, steaming at the touch of the rising sun, and dug into the earth, pulling clumps of dirt and grass over his body. He snapped out an arm and caught a squirrel, bringing it to his lips in distaste. Its mate came searching, and he repeated the act. With enough sustenance that he wouldn’t die a true death, he let the sun draw him down.

  “Hey, buddy, you okay there? You don’t look so good.” A man prodded Henri with a stick.

  Henri opened one eye and saw the man pointing at him with a cane, a spry older gentleman with a tiny poodle on his post-supper walk. Henri had always hated poodles. The French were obsessed with them, always naming them something stupid, like Fifi.

  “Fifi…” he said out loud.

  “Yeah! Howdya know? This here’s Fifi. She’s a toy poodle and cute as a button, aren’t you, Fifi?” Fifi lifted up her front legs and balanced on her back ones.

  “Good girl! Let me give you a treat,” said her owner, pulling a nibblet of something out of his pocket and hand-feeding it to the dog.

  “Anyways, how you doin’? I walk my dog here ‘cause Adelaide don’t mind. She likes Fifi and says it’s better for me to walk her here than on the side of the road with all them cars goin’ by. Anyways, came ‘pon you here and thought you could use some help. No place to be sleepin’ outside at night without a tent. The skeeters will eat you up! Hey…!”

  The man said no more as Henri reached up, grabbed the man’s leg, and yanked him down, pouncing on the man’s neck. Fifi yapped and ran away, her leash trailing behind. Henri buried the body in the wallow he’d made for himself, and, feeling much refreshed, decided it was time to pay Lisette a visit.

  He walked toward Lisette’s house, thinking about how scared she’d been when she’d opened the gate for him the other night.

  “Promise you won’t hurt anyone.”

  “My dear, I will hurt Gaspard, but none other.”

  “I wish I could see him suffer. He’s like a drug pusher with the very best crack and sculpted abs…” She trailed off.

  Henri had controlled his impatience. “I don’t think it is a good idea if you are there. You might change your mind. We must be firm in our actions. Gaspard hooked you to his bite and then threw you to the wolves. He left me when I needed him most, just as he left you. For this, he must suffer.”

  “But…he didn’t throw me to the wolves.” Lisette’s voice trailed off.

  “Lisette, would you need to drink blood every day if it weren’t for him?”

  “No.”

  “He manipulated you. Now, get me in the gate.”

  Lisette drove up to the back gate and used her card key to open it. Henri jumped out and headed toward the mansion.

  “Don’t kill him!” Lisette had yelled after him. “He’s not so bad…”

  Henri had ignored her and crept toward the house, carrying through with his original plan. Truth was, he didn’t care if he killed every living and undead being that resided there. If it all went to plan, he’d… what was that odd phrase… have a weenie roast over the smoking remains of the house and its occupants.

  16

  “The cameras show a woman with a man driving in the back gate,” Kara said.

  “That gate is a private entrance and secret to almost everyone. Who was it?”

  “Did you take Lisette’s card key away from her?”

  Gaspard closed his eyes with the realization.

  “Lisette is in on this? Who was with her?”

  Kara placed a photo in front of him.

  Gaspard froze staring in disbelief at the image. He attempted to speak but choked on his own words.

  “Gaspard? What is wrong?”

  “This cannot be! That is Henri, my brother. He died decades ago.”

  “And yet, he started the fire. Lisette just let him in.”

  Gaspard stood, and Kara could feel him draw his power to him. She heard the lesser vampires in the house grunt at the sudden shift in energy. His eyes glittered with restrained fury, and his fangs dropped to their full length. The air around him crackled, and the force of his power pressed on her and made her stumble a foot back. For the first time, Kara saw him as the master vampire that he was.

  Without making a sound, Gaspard strode out of the room. Kara watched his back, not sure what he wanted her to do. She decided it didn’t matter what he wanted; she was his bodyguard, and it was her duty to follow. She hurried after him, cursing the whole time. There was no way this would end well.

  Outside, Kara could see that the vampire was so furious he couldn’t be bothered with human niceties. His face was drawn taught, chalky white, and his cheekbones stood out in harsh relief from the rest of his face. His lips were a virulent red.

  Kara caught his arm, and Gaspard whirled around, eyes glittering, capturing her in his gaze. She stared at him, caught, trapped, and yet, she felt that this was the only place she wanted to be. An owl hooted in the breeze, moonlight bathed them in a warm glow, and Kara’s world tunneled down until all she could see or feel was Gaspard.

  Rikassa whinnied in the distance and galloped to her Lady. She shoved her nose into Kara’s face, releasing her from Gaspard’s spell. The horse turned her attention to Gaspard, spun, and in a most deliberate motion, kicked Gaspard with her right back hoof.

  Gaspard jumped and lunged at the horse, who rose in the air ready to trample the vampire. Coming to her senses, Kara stepped between them, heart beating fast, and caught Rikassa by the mane with one hand, shoving Gaspard back with the other.

  “Stop!” she yelled. She turned to Gaspard, tight with fury and embarrassment. “What did you do to me?” she demanded.

  The vampire was as still as a statue. “I did nothing.”

  “We will talk about this again,” Kara promised, a sharp edge to her voice. “Now, however, we will drive to Lisette’s house and deal with the real danger.”

  Kara listened to the wheels crunch on the road gravel as she drove, breathing in even lungfuls of air to force herself to calm. What the hell was that, she thought. Had she been mesmerized, hypnotized? Was that an enthralling? She gripped the steering wheel to hide her trembling hands from Gaspard. Valkyries don’t tremble, she thought.

  She counted her breaths as she drove. In, one-two-three. Out, one-two-three. By the time they arrived at Lisette’s home, she was back in control and praying none of her sisters found out about this little incident.

  Gaspard was not in control. He leapt from the truck, moving quicker than the human eye could see, and walked in Lisette’s home without knocking. The door had been locked, so walking in was an understatement. He splintered the door and pulled it off its hinges.

  “Shit!” Kara said and hurled herself after him. The scene in front of her was so surreal it looked like a high school production of Macbeth, with Lisette in the Lady Macbeth role. Lisette was staring at the blood on her hands, not paying any attention to the blood gushing from her neck. Henri crouched beside her, fangs out, hands up in what looked like claws. His eyes were narrowed, and his mouth was in a bloody sneer, his clothes covered in grass stains and dirt.

  Gaspard’s face didn’t change at all. He was still in that way only vampires could be—until he wasn’t. In a flash, he pounced on Henri, grabbed him by the lapels, and threw him across the room into the brick fireplace. The mantle fell on Henri’s head with a sharp crack. Henri shook off the attack, jumped back up, and tackled Gaspard, slashing at his face with his talon-like nails. To Kara, this took place in a blur of action accompanied by blood spatter worthy of a TV show.

  Knowing she could do nothing about the vampire pissing match, Kara turned to Lisette. “We need to stop that bleeding. Come into the kitchen with me.” Lisette followed, docile and spellbound. Lisette sat in a chair and allowed Kara to place pressure on her neck wound, which had already started to coagulate.

  “What happened, Lisette?”

  Lisette seemed to come to a bit and turned her head to look at Kara. “He said Gaspard hurt him, like Gaspard hurt me,
and that if I helped him, I could hurt Gaspard, the way Gaspard made me hurt. I didn’t know he was going to set a fire that could have killed a lot of innocent people.”

  She continued. “He came back to my house, and I confronted him. He got angry, really angry.”

  A huge crash came from the living room followed by the sound of broken glass. That was the sliding glass doors to the back porch, Kara thought. I hope she has insurance.

  “Henri grabbed me by the arms. He was so strong that I couldn’t fight. He used one hand to twist my neck so that it hurt and then, then…”

  “Yes,” said Kara.

  “He raped me. I don’t mean physically like the regular kind, you know? I mean he bit me, making sure it hurt, using his powers to make me stay still. I was screaming inside but couldn’t move. He ripped away when Gaspard broke the door.”

  Lisette blinked, and Kara could see her mind was returning. She knew it was back when Lisette started to scream. Kara reached down to hold her, but Lisette pushed her away. Not knowing what else to do, Kara fetched Lisette a glass of water and stood next to her, waiting out the panic and feeling useless.

  Lisette rocked back and forth in jerky movements, gasping for air and tearing at her hair. Alarmed, Kara tried again and this time held her still, using her size and strength to keep Lisette from hurting herself until Lisette’s screams deflated to moans. Lisette closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around her knees, and keened, “No, no, no,” repeatedly. Kara reached out to hold her hand, but Lisette shot to her feet and ran up the stairs. Kara heard a door slam.

  Knowing that there was nothing more she could do for Lisette, Kara walked into the living room and followed the trail of destruction to the back yard. Once, the yard had been manicured with a small fountain in the middle. That fountain was rubble, and anything that had been a flower bed was vaporized. The two vampires stood across from one another, both bleeding from multiple scratches, but Henri fell to his knees and laughed.