The Vampire's Heart

by Breaker, Cochin

  Growing my nails and hardening them I latch onto the stone lower wall of the tavern, climbing up the side of the building a good six feet to reach its wooden upper floor. The people that have seen me are screaming and running now, but there are still many who have not seen or realised what I am and what is happening. Foolishly they now come for a closer look.

  I tense my muscles and launch myself at the area where the person landed. I sail over the crowd and hear the shouts of the people in it; those that have noticed the man flying through the air above them. I land, skidding slightly, and nearly trip on the cobbles, as the momentum is too much for even one such as I to counter.

  Straightening up I look at the person who fell. It is a woman, in her early- to mid-twenties. She has curly mousey brown hair, and most noticeable of all, she is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. I feel the magic course through my veins and I get ‘half-stocked’, magic dragging the blood with it, at the mere sight of her. She looks up at me and smiles, in both a sensual and a warm way. I want her now.

  Two men rush into the street from the building to my side. The building she jumped from.

  “Are you okay?” I ask of her. She does not answer, but brushes herself off and stands up, favouring one leg over the other. Evidently the fall injured her. She gives me that smile again and turns to the two men. I follow her gaze; the men are big and burly, dressed in cheap clothes I would expect to find manual labour workers wearing. They are blatantly poor. They are unshaven and the uglier of the two, a man with a hooknose and beady dark eyes, has a red hand-shaped mark on his cheek.

  “Your abilities as a lover are somewhat lacking,” she says brazenly, “and as for your… companion, shall we say? He is hardly noticeable at all in that area.” She turns to me and mouths the words ‘very small’, before turning back to the two men. “I have to wonder about the somewhat dubious relationship the two of you share. I’m sure even a sodomite would turn his head know of the things the two of you do together. And in future, do not ask your other friends around if they are only willing to take and not pay.” She turns to look at me once again, and simply says “I am not okay.”

  She spoke with passion and pace, moving me to anger beyond my usual level. I retract my nails. These two will pay for sullying this girl, and they will pay in pain. I will beat them to death with my bare hands.

  “Then I am not okay either. These… I shan’t say gentlemen… these… whatever they are, will die. Okay?” I say, not requiring an answer.

  “Fine by me, vampire” she says. I take a step forwards, while the men, unsure, take a step backward.

  I realise what she’d said and whip my head around to look at her so quickly. She said ‘vampire’. How can she know that I’m a vampire? I’ve been keeping a suitably low profile… until now. I’ve been an idiot. It looks like I won’t be staying here much longer. I beckon the men to me, putting up my fists as an invite to trading blows. They come forward, their hands mirroring mine.

  There is caution on their faces and in their movements. They split to flank, one to either side of me. The least ugly man throws the first heavy punch, one that I dodge all too easily, which sends him off balance. Ignoring him for the moment I turn to the hook-nosed man; he swings with his left fist, so I take a step back, he follows forward and swings on the backhand with his left again and follows up quickly with the right hook; all of his power in the punch. Ducking under his left backhand I step into the quick followed right hook, breaking his defence and rendering the punch useless. Up close and personal I touch my forehead to his nose at great speed. A crack and a spray of hot blood covers my eyes. The man drops like a stone, both hands clutching at his further ruined face.

  I round on the once unbalanced man, who has now retreated a few paces, fists still up. I close the distance in an instant, looking into his face, eye to eye, I see his pupils narrow as he focuses on me. I jab forward with my clenched fists, both sets of knuckles finding their way through the man’s pathetic defence to smash into his chest. My dual blows lift him up clear off his feet to land a good ten feet away, tossed like a rag doll. The man slowly gets to his feet, clutching his ribs, wincing with pain at every movement. He looks ready to bolt.

  I wipe the blood from my eyes and hold up my hands, a gesture to say I brook no harm. The man sees through my lie and turns, attempting to put as much distance between him and me as he can. But he can’t run with his ribs broken, so he slowly hobbles away. It’s just too little too late for him. He should have run the instant he’d seen me. I leap after him, bringing him to the ground when I land on him, his cry of pain cut short as I rip out his throat.

  Then the panic comes. The viewers must have been mesmerised by the swiftness of the fight, but now their senses return and the remaining people who had not seen my earlier exertions are running for their lives too. The people scream and a mad rush to get away from the marauding vampire before them encompasses all. Some people get trampled to death. I know because I feel it happen.

  The resounding fear emanating from the crowd is feeding me more than any amount of blood ever could. But I still take his; it tastes nice, like a good vintage wine. I stand and see the pitiful excuse of a man that I head-butted trying to crawl away, the people running around him are hindering his progress. Their footfalls break his fingers and cause him more pain with every moment. I ignore him and turn to the beautiful woman I just saved. I get the feeling she owes me something now. And I’m going to take it.

  I stride up to her, grab her by the hair and kiss her violently. The blood on my lips and in my mouth is licked off by her tongue. She’s reciprocating. She wants this too. I grab her around the waist, pulling her in close, feeling her breasts press against my chest. I slide my hand up her back, lifting her with my other arm under her knees.

  I walk, carrying the beautiful girl, out of the city of Midiar. The mayhem in my wake is truly heart lifting.

  - Holste -

  Sneaking through the catacombs at night is incredibly risky, more so for doing it alone without any light source. I’m relying on my memories to guide me in the right direction through all of the twisting turns and narrow passageways that connect all of the main stations. I think I know where I am. I hope I know where I am. I’ve managed to get this far without being seen. I’m not far, theoretically, from my destination; Legion’s station. I need to find out who he really is, there’s just something wrong about him, his reflection and footfalls. It just doesn’t fit together.

  For nearly half a season I have been waiting for this chance to come; to be left alone. It had come a mid-hour ago, when the latest ‘subject’ we were studying managed to break loose of her cell somehow. The five of us split up in order to find her more quickly. Except that I didn’t begin to track her. I stayed down here to attend to my own agenda. I’m sure they will find her on their own.

  I turn left at a junction, and continue to head silently to my destination; ahead of me in the corridor I hear voices. I stop and press myself against the wall. Calcia please let me not be seen. I wait. I cannot make out what the voices are saying, but they are not moving any closer, which is a relief. I slowly edge towards the voices. Both are male and they are engaged in conversation. As I near, and the voices become audible, I stop to listen.

  “What do you mean? Surely not!” a deep voice says, with disbelief.

  “I’m telling you, there’s a war coming,” announces a fractionally higher pitched voice.

  “Somehow, Finna, I don’t believe you. You couldn’t possibly know something like that.”

  “Believe what you will, but I know I’m right. I know,” says Finna, the man with the higher voice.

  “Are you sure you didn’t take a blow to the head at any point today?” the deep voice asks.

  “Of course not!” Finna replies, with what I assume is good humour.

  “Yesterday? A month? Were you dropped on your head at birth? A war indeed.” The deep voice emits a quick snicker.

  “You know what, fuc
k you,” Finna says, obviously becoming irritated with his counterpart.

  Who are these people? They speak too intimately to just be Fathers meeting in passing. They almost sound like… us; the new Legion. But the other six squads don’t have anybody called Finna in them. And what is this war? Finna and the other man continue.

  “Ooh, testy aren’t you? That time of the month is it? Got your beard on?”

  “Why can’t you take anything I say seriously?” asks Finna.

  “Mainly,” the deep voice says, “because you talk a load of old bollocks.” That makes Finna chuckle.

  “I’ll admit it, I’ve been wrong about things in the past, but this time…” Finna confesses.

  “So what exactly makes you sure about this?”

  “I don’t know. But that’s why I know.”

  “What?” the deep voice asks.

  I can understand his scepticism of Finna’s beliefs if he comes out with things like that.

  “The vampires are massing; the demons in Hell are sprung for an attack. I think that sooner rather than later they’ll attack us. And we will not be prepared when they do,” Finna explains.

  “I think you’re a loon,” the deep voices responds.

  “Fucking hell, Yanick, why can’t you just trust me?” Finna asks.

  “Okay, I believe you,” Yanick says, “now what do you want me to do about it? Go and tell Legion? Hmm, yeah, I’m sure he’d welcome me with open arms, hug me and thank me and my informant for passing him such valuable information.”

  “Fine, if you’re going to be like that.”

  “Be like what? How am I supposed to be?” Yanick asks.

  This is not what I came here for, but at least it seems that I’ve found out that everyone else sees Legion as some sort of figure to be feared.

  I have no idea who Yanick and Finna are, I can only assume that they must be catacomb staff, otherwise I’d know them. I’m the leader of the new Legion after all. Above me there is only one.

  I turn to return to my station, my investigation ruined by the two men barring my path ahead, and feel hot breath fire into my face. A man is stood in the shadows behind me. I see no face but feel the powerful aura. It is the only man above me; Legion himself.

  - Muzbeth -

  I lay her down in the hayloft of a barn on the outskirts of the town. The owners of the barn are now dead in their farmhouse. Outside, the spring rains have come hard, dampening the air and thus keeping the dust down inside the barn.

  I run my hands over the warm body beneath me; I slide the straps off of her shoulders and pull the long slender dress down her torso to reveal her perfect breasts, her white flesh is almost luminescent in the darkness. She sits up, forcing me to back off a little, and removes the dress completely. She traces a finger along my jaw line, which brings back unpleasant flashes of memory of Witch, while her other hand unbuttons my shirt. I untie my trousers and pull them off, allowing my magic to pump my heart hard.

  Silently, with the rain beating onto the roof above us, we make love, never uttering a single word.

  - Holste -

  There are four of us. I was first in, and the other three all entered within the following few moments. We’re all stood in a line, to attention, facing an empty desk; Legion is not in here. He left after he ushered me silently inside. I am at the far left of the line, being first to arrive. None of us have dared utter a word. From my brief glances around me, I do not recognise the other three men, and I’d bet my bottom coin that they don’t know each other either.

  Sweat beads on my forehead, but I dare not move a hand to wipe it away. It runs over the top of my eyebrow and drops down between my eyes, rolling down to collect at the tip of my nose.

  My eyes scan the room, taking in what little stimulus there is. The dark wood desk is unadorned and looks unused. A high backed leather chair is pushed under it. Like everywhere in the catacombs there are no real windows, only the observation glass walls, but in here there is not a single sheet of glass. The dark wood panelled walls are also unadorned and the usual bookshelves associated with offices are nowhere to be seen.

  The door behind us creaks open, and then shuts. I hear no one enter but know that he is here. I can feel him. He does not come in front of us, preferring to talk to the backs of our heads. I know I don’t have the brass to turn and look at him, and I suspect the other three do not either. When he dropped me off here he walked behind me the whole way, never allowing me to see him.

  “Gentlemen, I have brought you all here because one of your number was looking too deeply where he should not have been. He was getting close to something he had no right to. Not yet. Now I am forced to bring to light the situation. Any questions thus far?” Legion asks.

  Nobody even moves a muscle. I can’t even hear the other people breathing. I know they can’t hear my breath as I’m holding it. Nobody says anything, so Legion continues.

  “As you know, there is a new Legion being formed. What you do not know is that each of you is raising a quarter of it.”

  Ah, so that is why Finna and Yanick were talking like they were in the new Legion. They actually are. But why keep us separate for all this time?

  “When the training and magical learning is complete only one hundred men will remain. That means that each of you will lose ten men from your quarters. I will call you back once we are down to the correct number of men. Now, as each of you knows, I have let you choose most of your targets, and the directions in which your magical enhancements have taken. Father Holste has perfected certain aspects of BodyShifting. Father Quixin has mastered Shimmering and Shifting. Father Oryon has Glamours under his complete control. And Father Tyllard, most impressively, has developed Gateways. You may well be wondering about that last one. Farther Tyllard, would you care to explain?”

  Shimmering and Shifting? Glamours? Gateways? The directions of our magical enhancements? Is that why we were split? Father Tyllard clears his throat.

  “Certainly Legion. The main strategic advantage of Gateways is that we can now transport troops instantly across Gatheck to any location we need. This is far advanced from Shifting, for as you know, even the most accomplished Shifting caster can only transport up to three other people. With Gateways we can take as many as we need, and keep the Gateway open until we return. Legion.”

  “Thank you Father Tyllard. Any questions?”

  To my right I see a hand rise. There is no indication the he should speak, but he does so anyway.

  “Legion, I must protest. I have worked many seasons enhancing the Shifting casting, as you know. You also know what we have achieved in doing so.”

  “Yes, you managed to make someone vanish completely. That poor soul no longer walks Gatheck.”

  “Then, Legion, why did you not stop us?” Quixin asks, the sound of desperation beginning to creep into his voice. “Why did you not direct us to another form? Why have you let us waste our time on a dangerous and unnecessary casting?”

  “Father Quixin. I did not stop you because, although your intentions were to aide our forces strategically, you have created an extremely powerful weapon,” Legion informs Father Quixin.

  “I’m sorry Legion, I do not follow. We killed a single person using a team of thirty five. How is that a powerful weapon? Surely a single man armed with a sword is more effective.”

  “Quixin, you should know that I have tracked that poor soul you lost, expending much of my magical power and losing precious time in doing so. But I found him. He is in Hell.”

  The muscles in my body stiffen. I let out a breath too long held and take a deep breath. Hell. He said Hell. Before anyone can say anything through the shock statement, Legion begins again.

  “Imagine if you will, an army of demons attacking the vampires. If we can get the armies of Hell under our thrall, we would be able to wipe out any resistance to the Calcian way of life,” Legion announces.

  I have to speak now. That was a major flaw in his belief structure, admitting to wanting t
o use demons.

  “Surely that goes against Calcia’s will. Should She wish us such power she would grant us her angels. From my understanding and suspicions you desire nothing but power,” I say. The thrall of fear breaks finally and my courage bursts through, causing me to turn and face Legion. I look upon the man that inspires nightmares in so many. “Power to rule all...” I trail off as my words fail me.

  A humanoid shape stands in front of the door, illuminated at the edges by the ambient light in the room. It is transparent and has one red glowing eye set into the side of its head. It looks two dimensional, almost. It has no definition apart from the eye; its body, limbs, and face are nothing but translucent grey matter.

  I take a pace back and my legs come up against the desk. As I’m staring at the monster before me, it advances.

  The Eleventh Chapter

  - Holste -

  32 days until the birth of a god

  The 1st day of Spring-Fall, 1538

  “Quixin! Shift now. Take Oryon and Tyllard with you. Go!” I command.

  In my mind I am preparing to cast, calling on my belief in Calcia to protect me. Quixin, tall and muscled with long dark hair, casts quickly and the three of them Shift out, like two pictures passing through one and other, one with them in the room, and the other without them.

  When they have gone, Legion takes a few steps closer and stops. He stands there and just glares at me with his single red glowing eye. Now that we’re so close I can see it pulsing ever so slightly.

  As he pauses I take my chance, letting the most powerful magic I can muster lash out at him, hoping to rip his insubstantial body to shreds. There is a shimmer in front of him and my Malice has no effect whatsoever. He smiles. His face, if you can call it that, softens, gaining more definition, and when he speaks, it is not with his usual deep menacing voice; it is a voice of song and pleasure, of love and yet power. It is a woman’s voice; one that inspires adoration and trust in me.