by Armae
“I don't take children.”
The boy instantly changed. His frail form turned into a body sculpted with strong, well-defined muscles. He now appeared as a tall, handsome, healthy young man.
“Does this please you instead?”
Lazarus glared at him and cursed. He ventured deeper into the cavern.
“What about this?”
The shape-shifter followed him into the depths of the camp and now, his body resembling a seductive temptress, again stood in front of Lazarus.
“I do not want you regardless of your form. Now tell me, where can I find Percival?”
The woman stepped closer to him.
“Drink from me and I will take you to him. If you turn me away, I will kill you.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Lazarus raised an eyebrow and wondered what tricks his nemesis would play next.
A thundering echo shattered through the cave like a den of lions roaring through the wilds. The ground beneath his feet shook.
“What in God's name—?”
“I told you, if you do not drink from me I will kill you,” said the shape-shifter. “I have just sealed the entrance to the cavern. You can no longer escape.”
She raised a wrist to her mouth and bit down deep into the pale, chalky flesh, peeling off a layer of skin. She spit out the torn flesh that lingered in her mouth.
Lazarus eyed the pooling blood sitting hot on the shape shifter's wrist. His hunger gnawed at him.
“Come to me, sir. Take me for your own good.” The woman called to him with a voice as tempting as is the night to the Vampyre.
He wanted nothing to do with her. The thought of feeding on blood again made him sick. Yet despite Lazarus’ best efforts, he felt himself being urged by an unknown, unseen force. He unwillingly succumbed to his desires.
Lazarus reached out and grabbed hold of the shape-shifter's arm and sucked deep from her wrist. The pooled blood oozed down the woman's hand and arm and sent Lazarus into a feeding frenzy. Suddenly fearing no amount of blood would be enough to sate him, he licked at her flesh. The tainted blood tasted sweeter than nectar as he clamped his lips over her naked veins. He drank and drank and drank. He took his fill until nothing but a withered corpse remained. The woman collapsed on the floor and Lazarus backed away.
The pale white body changed shape once more reverting to the small boy.
Lazarus stood in shock, horrified by what the lifeless body revealed. The child's chalky, puncture-ridden skin clung to his bones. He had done no such thing. Or had he? Lazarus felt his mind slipping, fading into oblivion. He crashed to the floor, his knees scraping hard against the jagged, rocky surface.
A dozen or so shape-shifters, all in the form of children, came to him, offering him their life force. He pushed them away. Visions of Neomina lying in bed all bloodied and pale flooded his mind. No. He hadn't left her in such a dire state.
“Percival! Damn you, Percival!” He shouted but no one seemed to listen.
Slowly, the warm essence of blood filled his mouth and smoothly slid down his throat like fine vintage of wine.
He didn't know how it began or how it would ever end, but Lazarus fed until he felt his soul completely sated.
The world of dreams took him.
* * * *
Searching for Montgomery, Neomina roamed the halls of Sanctum Hall. She hunted everywhere and finally found the angel in the apothecary.
“Ah, a ray of sunshine. Please, come in.” Monty gestured to Neomina. “I hate it when the weather is cloudy and rainy. What about you?”
Neomina shrugged her shoulders. “The rain does not bother me.”
A sense of longing clouded her soul. She missed Lazarus and was deathly worried about him.
“My nephew is no fool, dear. I am sure he returns soon.”
Neomina didn't like having her thoughts read. She wondered if Montgomery sensed everything that stirred within her.
“No.”
“What?”
“I can only read that which you allow me to. And, if truth be known, I make a habit of not listening. Do you know what it is like to be an angel? To sense everything, hear everything?”
Neomina shook her head. “Forgive me. I didn't mean to unsettle you.”
“Nonsense, child. My feelings are quite unharmed. Now tell me what brings you here?”
She bit her lip. Lazarus had never mentioned her father's note again after she gave it to him, but she had the distinct feeling he hadn't told Montgomery everything that Gerard had written in it.
“What do you know about the Amulet of Christ?”
The angel lifted his head from a group of herbs sitting on the table. “The amulet was first given to Octavia's father sometime after the crucifixion. I believe one of the apostles brought it to him after having been instructed to do so by the risen Christ. The pendant carries a vial of Christ's blood and restores mortality to the New Breeder who wears it.”
Neomina thought back to her father and the life she led prior to his death. “What does the amulet look like?”
Montgomery wiped his hands on the apron he wore. Colors from the herbs he was mixing painted the fabric with a rainbow of fingerprints. “It is round and marked with a symbol representing the Trinity. The outer casing is made of gold.”
A bolt of shock ran through Neomina's body. “My father wore a pendant with the very same markings on it. I don't ever remember seeing him without it. He wore it every day of his life.”
“Please, child, have a seat. Right now you look as pale as Althea does.”
Neomina twisted the silky fabric of her purple gown. Her head pounded and her heart raced. She could feel the blood coursing through her veins and echoing in her ears.
“There were things your father never wanted you to know. He kept certain secrets from you and he did so with good reason.”
“You know them, don't you? The secrets he kept from me.”
Monty pulled up a chair next to Neomina.
Comforted by his presence, Neomina allowed her soul to relax a bit by studying Montgomery. His gray breeches and burgundy linen shirt made him look like an average mortal and anything but an angel. Yet something about him set his soul apart from all others. A slight gold aura reflected off Monty's hair and reminded Neomina of a halo. She stared at him intently.
“Your father met with misfortune sometime early in life,” he said, “and had his mortality taken from him by a Dark Breeder. The Trackers came upon him begging for help, as he lay wounded from battle. Your mother rescued him and rehabilitated his soul. The feat had never been attempted before nor has it been since.”
“And the amulet?”
“Octavia's father gave the amulet, together with the St. John Stake, to his wife, a Tracker by birth. The St. John Stake is a deadly weapon made of wood and shrouded in silver melted down from the platter that once carried John the Baptist's head. It is used to kill the most villainous souls of the Dark Breed.
“Octavia's mother possessed them both until her death when they were passed to the Tracker Council. Your father was given ownership of the relics after his rehabilitation.”
Neomina didn't want to ask the next question, but she needed to know. “Who possesses them now?”
“I am afraid, child, the new owner is you.”
Not knowing how to react she sucked in a deep breath. “But, if that is true, then I can give Lazarus back his mortality and he can father a child.” A shocking realization hit her. “You said my father's mortality was taken by a Dark Breeder, did you not?”
Montgomery nodded.
“But what does that make me? I inherited none of my mother's powers as she willed them to my father before I was even born.”
“That makes you a most unique creature, child.”
He said those words only to comfort her and she knew it.
“I am Vampyre, am I not?”
“The preternatural essence that lingered in your father's soul has, indeed, been passed on to you. It awo
ke at the time of Gerard's death. But understand, Neomina, you are not like any others. You must decide whether to remain mortal and take on the powers your mother willed away to Delacroix or to cross over and allow the Vampyre to claim your soul.”
A frenzy of emotions played with her and confused Neomina even more than ever before.
CHAPTER 16
The pain was unbearable.
Hovering on the verge of death, Lazarus woke, his body aching and shivering. The world around him appeared as nothing more than a spinning blur shrouded in shadows and darkness. He moaned in agony as the gnawing hunger that tormented his body slowly began to eat away at his soul. He tried to make sense of his surroundings. He was on a bed and his ankles and wrists were shackled to posts. As he tried to move, to break free from his restraints, Lazarus felt his pain intensify.
“It's the blood.”
He opened one eyelid and squinted.
“Who is there? What have you done to me?”
He heard nothing in response save for slow, deliberate footsteps echoing around the cavern. The rhythmic sound circled Lazarus’ resting place, over and over, grew more intense and came closer with each completion of a turn.
“Now you know how I have felt these past centuries,” a harsh, raw voice whispered through the darkness. “The constant ache, the never-ending hunger.” The voice grew louder and more sinister. “It consumes you entirely until there is nothing left to your being except a soulless shell.”
“Who are you?”
“Why do you want to know? I have existed for hundreds of years and my name meant nothing to you.”
A blurred figure emerged from the darkened shadows that danced across the room.
Lazarus sensed his captor approaching. He reached out a shackled hand and grabbed hold of the soul who confined him. “Damn you,” he said, anger filling his voice.
Chains rattled over Lazarus’ head as cold metal links came thrashing down on his face. He released his captor and pulled at the cuffs binding him to the crude bed. Lazarus let out a beastly growl. “There is no need for this.”
“Oh really? How interesting. Did you not come here to kill me? To still my living soul so your precious Neomina could have her revenge?”
“How did you know about that?”
“You amuse me, Lazarus.” An eerie laugh rang out through the dead air. “For the patriarch of a Tribe, you certainly are naïve.”
Lazarus pulled at the chains once more and struggled with the heavy links. “Ugh!” He never felt so frustrated.
“She gives me life,” whispered his captor. “Now that Gerard is dead, Neomina is my new student. I made Delacroix. I brought him across to the Dark Breed and, in return, he promised me his first-born child. Neomina is mine in more ways than you can ever imagine. What Neomina hears, I hear. What Neomina feels, I feel. What she sees, I see. And, oh, yes. I see that look in your eyes. Does the realization make you sick? It is true, my dear Lazarus. Everything Neomina experiences, I experience. Even your shared intimacy.” The voice closed in on him. “What she gives, I give.”
Nausea rose in his stomach. Lazarus thought of Neomina and envisioned their last moments together.
“Did my blood taste sweet to you?” his captor asked. “Did it taste familiar, remind you of another's? You have never felt the hunger like I have. My blood now flows through you making you crave that which had been forbidden to your soul for centuries. Savor the taste, the hunger. I will soon complete the task of making you into what I have always been.”
Lazarus could not contain the disgust that filled him, that turned his stomach. He leaned over the edge of his straw-covered pallet and threw up. The blood that had sated his hunger earlier came up in an instant, leaving him to suffer an even more unbearable pain. He fell back upon the makeshift bed.
“So, tell me. What am I to do with a soul who comes to destroy me? Any ideas?”
Lazarus didn't answer.
A sweet, succulent aroma filled his nostrils and reminded Lazarus of the fruits from Paradise. The fuzzy skin of a peach brushed his lips a moment later and then came down fast and hard on his teeth as he was forced to open his mouth.
“Eat it.”
He bit into the peach, tasting the essence of Paradise in the first bite.
“You are worth far more to me alive than if you were dead. So for that, be thankful.”
Lazarus swallowed.
His captor forced him to take a second bite.
“Damn you.” Lazarus wanted nothing more than to spit the fruit out of his mouth, but instead devoured it like a wild beast that hadn't eaten in days. He hated himself for having no self-control. “Death would be my salvation. To live like this, one has nothing to be grateful for.”
“Then think of Neomina. If you die, I will take her. I made her father, sent him to the Trackers and I possessed his soul until the very end. Do you really think a Tracker would allow his offspring to marry a patriarch of the Vampyre Tribes?”
“Why not?” Lazarus asked. “My grandmother was a Tracker and she married my grandfather, the first patriarch of my Tribe.”
“But Romulus’ soul was already exorcized by the Nazarene. He had the amulet and the St. John Stake. Your grandfather had something to offer to the Trackers. What do you bring them?”
Lazarus thought about his captor's words. It was true. He brought nothing to the Trackers. For Gerard to hand over his only heir to the Vampyre made no sense. He wondered why he never realized it before.
“Why have you done this?” asked Lazarus. “Come into my life, taken me hostage and forced me to feast on tainted blood. Why?”
“Neomina can breathe into me new life, the life I was meant to live. But she can do so only after you bring her over.”
“Why Neomina?”
A grunt of frustration echoed about the cavern. “I told you I made her father and that Gerard promised me his firstborn. Had the child been a boy, Althea would be here now instead of you. Her soul would do me just the same. Your blood runs in her veins as well. I would have reached you one way or another, Lazarus.”
“So you want me. Why?”
“To suffer, to torment, to torture. I want you to know the hell I've endured for all these centuries. I should have lived the life you did. It was my birthright.”
Lazarus didn't understand. He had no brothers, no sisters and no immediate family save for his mother.
A shadow crossed his eyes. Thick, honey-sweet drops of liquid fell to his lips as the taste of blood filled his mouth.
“Drink from me, dear Lazarus. Taste the familiar essence in my blood that links our souls—the essence of Paradise. Drink from me, dear cousin. And when you are fully sated, thank Montgomery for having sired me, your living nightmare.”
The words bolted through him like a stake striking at his heart. Montgomery had a son and the angel had never told him. He cursed to himself. He closed his eyes and tried desperately to wish away the agony that was starting to spread like wildfire throughout his body. Tainted blood pooled in his mouth as his captor force-fed him. In an instant, the poisoned blood paralyzed his senses. Lazarus felt the world go dark.
CHAPTER 17
Neomina couldn't sleep. Dressed in a thin, flowing gown, she rose from her bed and ventured downstairs to the great hall.
The room was now empty, devoid of the life that had filled it only hours ago when the Tribe had gathered here.
Life among the Vampyre was different for her, different from what Gerard had shown her. Neomina wandered about the hall and wondered if she would ever get used to sleeping in the day and rising at night. Her body filled with a strange, tingling sensation which caused her to feel unreal. The world seemed to pass her by in slow motion with no sense of tangibility. She felt as if she were floating in a dream-like state, feeling only half-alive. The overwhelming effect of the Vampyre was taking its toll on her. She no longer knew if she were awake or asleep, real or unreal. The world was beginning to seem like a faraway place and she didn't know
if she would survive the change taking place inside her. Neomina thought she might be dreaming.
“No. You are as awake as am I.”
The voice startled her. “I didn't expect anyone to still be up.”
Montgomery smiled at her and took a seat at one of the long, wooden tables.
“I'm not Vampyre. I don't sleep like the others.”
No, he wasn't Vampyre at all and Neomina was glad of that. She stared at him, longing to know his story. How did an angel come to guard creatures of the night?
“Why do they go to the crypts? I thought the Tribe had all been exorcized and, in such a state, they could refrain from hiding from the sun.”
“They are, but the sleep that calls them is still very much present. Only a few members of the Tribe have challenged the Vampyre that rules inside. Octavia, Althea, Byron have all successfully overcome their adversity to the sun's rays.”
“Oh.” Her mind wandered.
“What's wrong, Neomina?”
“I can't feel Lazarus and that bothers me.”
Montgomery rose. “I am quite sure my nephew will be fine. He's one of the strongest souls I have ever known.”
He didn't understand. How could he? Montgomery was an angel and he knew nothing about love.
A harsh sternness laced Monty's voice. “Quite the contrary.”
She wanted to remind him his reading her mind made her uncomfortable, but Neomina felt the pain that flowed through Montgomery's words. Now wasn't the time to mention the incident.
“I once had a wife and a child. Did Lazarus ever tell you anything about me or the Grigori?”
Neomina turned away; a soft pink blush brushed her face.
“I wasn't referring to that. What I meant was did he ever tell you about our closeness to man?”
She shook her head and peered back at the angel.
“We were sent by God to the Garden of Eden as the watchers of man. It was our duty to teach man everything we knew including sacred knowledge.” He stared at her. The story of Eden would not be easy to explain.
“The apple, the snake, it didn't happen as man believes. Adam and Eve had to learn. They had to eat from the Tree of Knowledge or remain in a child-like state for all eternity. And that was not what God wanted. He wanted his children to enjoy all he had given them. Somewhere along time, the truth has been twisted.” Montgomery took a deep breath and began pacing the stone-tiled floor. Painful memories of the past filled his soul and caused him great grief.