“Until they break,” she affirmed without hesitation, “and your neck lay drenched in your own blood.”
“Then you will die in vain.”
“Bullshit,” she replied.
“I tried for far longer than you’ll ever have.”
Sarah looked over to the crack in the wall, and asked, “What does that mean?”
She waited for a response, but instead got a return of the shuffled sounds of a man at the ends of his life. Still, she hadn’t ruled out that he was an invention of her blood-starved imagination. Stranger things have known to happen for those denied their blood cravings. There were the tremors and blackouts, bloodlust, and visions of life on the other side of the Hell Gate.
“We share a reason for being in this place,” he said, “and it’s not because of a dead reaper. That is but the show, the spectacle, the guise in which these men operate.”
“Why are you telling me this now?” Sarah asked.
“Because it’s too late,” he said softly. “We’re both dead.”
“Get real,” she said. “You can rot away and die if you want. I’m getting out of here and feasting on those that dishonored me with their mere touch.”
“Aw, now here I thought you were a smart girl,” said the man from behind the hole in the wall. “Don’t you feel that, girl? The sun rises overhead.”
“I can wait a few more hours,” Sarah said without cause for immediate concern. “I’ve got nowhere to go.”
She didn’t know his name or the circumstances that led to his capture. She could barely make sense of hers. Yet, there was one thing Sarah Matheson had come to learn since her awakening in this cell. That was the sound of her dark stranger’s hoarse laughter throughout her cramped confines. It must’ve taken all the man had left to give, but he belted out laughter in what he maintained was the end of times for them.
Sarah could hardly hear the sound of gears grinding overtop the ornery mirth from her next door neighbor, but it was there and it became all the more apparent when the crescent moon above began to spin in a counter clockwise fashion.
“What the hell are they doing?” a panicked Sarah Matheson asked. “I’ll tell them anything they want to know! I’ll tell them the lady’s n—.”
Sunlight burst into the stone cell and set fire to both Sarah and her unknown counterpart. Only these weren’t the sunbeams she knew in her second life. These were a concentrated burst of light that seeped through her skin, all the way to her rotten core. She writhed on the ground in a contorted and perverse manner while cries for help went unanswered. All the while the man’s laughter filled her room. Until the moment they both turned to ash.
No one came for them. Neither their captors nor any that called themselves friend. They were lost to the world; ancient relics that had long since passed their date of expiration. There would be no bereavement on their behalf. No burial rights. Only those that would soon uncover not just their charred remains, but a world beneath them they’d never believed possible.
Chapter Twenty One
Night Kings: Dayside
Gregory Blackman
Divergent Paths
It was a breezy autumn night in the coastal town of Genoa, as peaceful a place one could find in war torn Italy, a country only seven years removed from the Hell Gate incident. Despite the trauma inflicted upon the land, Genoa maintained prominence among the many counts and dukes that warred on all sides.
On the outskirts of town, a lady dressed in red sat atop one of the many rolling hills that lined the landscape. She waited for a man she knew well. What she didn’t know was that he wouldn’t be coming on this fateful night; wouldn’t be coming on any other night. Yet, the lady was far from alone tonight.
The lady was born Xenia Alva to an Italian fisherman, nobody of importance, but he was not the young woman’s birth father. That was a truth she would learn much later in life. Behind Xenia stood a man born of blood and hellfire with hair as black as his silhouette that crept into her view.
A startled Xenia looked to see what lurked behind, but as she turned her head the man was already upon her.
The man’s teeth sunk into her throat and with a buckle of her knees she was swooped into his arms. Cain was that monster’s name, the first nosferatu to take human form, and creator of the vampire race. To Cain she would be his queen, the first their kind would have, the one to bring them beyond the darkness in which they were born.
“You know not how special you are,” whispered Cain into the lady’s ear as he feasted on her neck. “Allow me to show you…”
And show her the man did. Cain showed his lady in red a world she could never have fathomed and between them thousands were turned into the now-prevalent vampire race. And yet it wasn’t until the death of her maker that Xenia learned of what Cain meant all those years ago. She was more than the daughter of a simple fisherman and if her secret were to escape in the world it’d be a world no longer welcome to her.
For over 500 years the lady wept for her fallen maker. Those tears saw entire towns and counties razed in her name. Commanded by an undead legion of vampires and their ghoulish offspring, the vampires brought even the mightiest of enemies, the Holy Roman Empire, to their knees in surrender.
That was before the Order of the Reapers and their combined assault on the holdings of the vampire queen. Xenia’s empire crumbled overnight and her vampires along with it. It took the lady in red centuries to start anew while she languished to the shadows. That was many years ago and still the pain haunted her. Still, it tore at her from the inside. The lady in red had every reason to kill the reaper that auspicious night in Salem. She’d killed her fair share. Yet, she wasn’t the one whom had done the deed.
Reapers know the shadows better than monsters born of the darkest depths. To catch one unaware was not a task to be taken lightly. Whoever killed this particular reaper knew what they were doing. They were a threat to the lady and a threat just wouldn’t do. Not while she drew second breath.
So why leave the body for anyone to uncover? If word spread of the reaper’s death in Salem it would only be a matter of time until the Order heard of what took place. It would mean one less place in this world a queen could reign in peace. So, an alliance was enacted with the mayor of Salem to make sure not a word of the incident would come out. That alliance saw her betray many of her kind and she would do so again under the guise of survival. Her enemies would fall, only it wouldn’t be entirely by her hand.
There were years Xenia would go without a thought towards Cain Vetus, the reapers, and the night that began it all. Then there were the dark years where she couldn’t go one night without those thoughts finding their way inside. When the darkness came for a monster such as the lady in red there was only one that could ease her pain.
“Something troubles you,” Remus said as he approached the lady atop the crow’s nest of Blackrose Manor.
“On the contrary,” said Xenia, “tonight my conscience is clear.”
Not since her unholy coronation has anyone spoken to her with such disregard over the centuries. It wasn’t out of love or loyalty that she spared him for a fate that befell so many. It was respect that she allowed Remus Castalon to live after the contempt he had shown her and the belief he could one day replace her atop her crestfallen empire.
That respect was born in the shroud, an unearthly power that only the most gifted of vampires could command. All kindred clung to the shadows and yet those with mastery over the shroud were able to force their will upon those shadows. Remus had such command and it was that mastery alone which staved the lady’s blade.
“You will fail,” the lady said. “You realize this?”
“It’s crossed my mind.”
“I won’t be there to protect you when you fall,” Xenia was quick to remind him.
“I wouldn’t ask that of you.”
The lady stepped out from their lofty glass enclosure and onto the highest balcony the manor had to offer. The wind whistled past them a
nd below in the treetops the sound of countless grackles could be heard. The entire land stirred on this night as if aware of what was to come. Only it wasn’t of the lady’s doing. Someone else had control of the land now.
“Your absence hasn’t gone unnoticed,” said the lady in red coolly. “Wherever did you go? The city of Salem missed their dark savior.”
Remus refused to answer the vampire queen. A false pretense would be picked up immediately by one that knew him so well.
“You’re in search of a vampire militia,” the lady said without hesitation.
With a tinge in the eye of her progeny Xenia knew her information to be accurate. Perhaps her deposed heir had intentions on the crown after all. It was an occasion that should’ve filled the lady in red with pride, but she already knew what the end result would be. Any kindred he spoke to would’ve reminded him in case he forgot. None take up arms against the lady and live.
“Tonight is the night,” the lady affirmed. “There can be no further delay.”
“Much blood will be spilled,” said Remus, “all for the soul of one werewolf.”
“He is more than wolf,” the Xenia replied. She turned to Remus and gave him that fateful stare she would give once every hundred or so years. He knew it well for each time it was accompanied by a bloodbath that poured out into the streets. “He is the one I have waited for.”
The vampire queen and her dark prince hadn’t agreed on much in the last century. Remus fought her at every chance he could in attempt to weaken her dominion over the kindred race. This wouldn’t be one of those times and he stood there in silence with his lady in red—together until the end.
Chapter Twenty Two
Night Kings: Dayside
Gregory Blackman
The Heavy Hand and the Light Foot
The Dukane household was known for its many visitors that would come in the middle of the night. Tonight was no different and it found one particular caller inside those very walls. That man was the only person the embattled mayor of Salem could rely on in these difficult times.
“It was right of you to bring this information to me,” Victor said with a distressed sigh, “but I don’t believe it best to alter course. We continue on as planned.”
Hans Brackhaus sat across from the mayor; his bulky frame lurched over the round table they found themselves. It was a large table made for many, but on this night only two remained.
“It was only a matter of time before the other councilors uncovered our plans,” Hans said with a data stick in hand. “This videotape only proves that their involvement has been compromised. They know too much.”
“That may very well be the case,” said Victor, shaking his head in disappointment. “However, until we know more I refuse to sanction any move against them.”
He accepted the data stick given to him by trusted confident, certain of its contents as they were described to him. He knew the implications of their discovery; knew the ramifications. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to harm those who had once been so close. Not yet.
“This puts our mission in jeopardy,” said Hans, sharply. “They may very well warn the others.”
“Who will they contact,” Victor rebuked, “a few wolves and some crusty old women? I do not believe them capable of what’s essentially self assured destruction. No, Bernhard and Cetra know as well as we that if word spreads of the reaper’s death all our lives will come to an end. They might not agree with our methods, but they want this mess cleaned up, too.”
Victor’s hands trembled as he sat on the verge of casting two of his oldest friends into the abyss. He’d known what they were since the beginning of their union and not once did he think of turning them over to the authorities. Bernhard and Cetra were monsters, perversions of the divine, but not once did they act as such in his city. To a man with so many enemies they were as close to friend as he could hope to have. Even now, as Victor looked back into the steely eyes of his compatriot, he looked at a man that was no friend to him. He was simply the only one left.
“They’ll see things as we do,” the mayor said. “They must… or we shall all suffer the same fate. Death or disgrace by reaper inquisition. I wouldn’t ask that of my worst enemy.”
Victor Dukane would do anything in this world to keep his daughter from harm. He saw the murder of a reaper masked behind a mile of red tape; turned beloved friends into enemies; and when it was all said and done, he did it all to spare his daughter the same fate that would one day befall him. .
“Our first priority remains the reaper,” Victor reminded his associate. “If we can find the reaper’s killer we can put an end to all this madness before it spins out of our control.”
“If we find the killer,” replied the disheartened Norseman, “a feat proving all the more difficult with each passing day. The trail has gone cold and none of the vampires are talking. Perhaps we would get somewhere if we question the werewolves…”
“No,” said Victor, hurriedly, “Despite these recent findings, Bernhard would’ve told me. I have to believe that. None know better than him what a regiment of reaper’s means. No wolf has met a reaper and lived. He’ll lose more than his place on city council. That’s a certainty and even he knows it. It was a vampire, Hans. I’m more certain of it than ever.”
He reached for a file folder beside him and slid it across the wooden table in Hans’s direction.
“What’s this supposed to mean?” asked Hans, shrugging his shoulders as he leafed through the pages. “I’ve got the criminal records of four people we’ve picked up over the years.”
“Read their names out loud for me,” Victor said, softly.
Hans shot the guarded mayor a glance in distrust before he looked closer at the file he’d been given. “I see a Julie Harrow, Merle Bellevue, Sarah Matheson, and Harrison Franks. Are these names supposed to mean something to me?”
“They’re vampires,” said Victor, “and they’ve all gone missing over the last few days.”
“They probably fled,” said Hans as he waved his hands in skepticism. “Vampires on the hunt have been known to do that. There’s something in their bloody heads that tells them danger lurks nearby. I’m telling you, Mr. Mayor, if it was vampires that killed the reaper then they’re far from the city of Salem.”
The mayor pushed back from the desk, lifted from his chair, and thumbed through an old, leather-bound book behind him. Anything he could do to keep his gaze from the burly Nord. He was certain these vampires had been kidnapped. He could feel it within his bones. Something dark was at work here and it wasn’t by his hand. Yet, not a single reason could be shared with his cohort. This was a secret that must be kept from all.
“Fine,” said Hans with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “I’ll see what I can do, but there isn’t much time. Must I remind you that phase two begins soon?”
“I’m aware of the schedule!” Victor became enraged by what he saw as insubordination from the councilman and threw his book down on the ground in a furor.
“I… I’m sorry,” he said, flush with embarrassment, “I just pray that we find ourselves on the right path, brother.”
A slow creak enveloped the room as Hans slid his chair back; eyes fixed on the beset mayor, hand in his jacket pocket. Hans moved next to the addled Victor and forced open the mayor’s clenched hands. As he stared the man dead in the eyes he placed a single, silver token in Victor’s palm, and said, “So say we all.”
It was a dark night for the city of Salem. One made darker by those that meant to see it see it safe. They made their secret pacts; oversaw shady dealings take place within their walls; and they did so with the hope that one day they might be able to reclaim the city they’d so easily lost.
Tonight’s particular dealings would see these two men conspire long into the night and it proved the perfect opportunity for a sneaky daughter to make her way out the back door with her father none the wiser. Elsa Dukane had been cooped up far too long within these walls, unable to leave whil
e her father resided inside.
When he was gone the servants were under strict orders to make sure Elsa didn’t leave the compound. Those same servants would see orders superseded every once in awhile; when the need for a girl to live her life proved too great to contain.
On this night, Elsa sought out a friend that’d tried to tear her in two only a few nights ago. She held those actions not against the man, but the lady in red that had corrupted all he once was, and would be again.
Elsa didn’t know what she would find at his doorstep. She heard Gemma’s warning. Heard it out and clear. Lukas couldn’t be trusted. Not while the black veins of the lady in red still gripped him. None of that seemed to matter to a girl in search of herself; in search of what stirred inside her.
It wasn’t feelings of love that drove her forward. It was the desire to learn the truth, of herself, her friends, and the city that raised her. To the shadows Elsa fled in search of those answers. Yet, little did she know of the darkness that followed.
Chapter Twenty Three
Night Kings: Dayside
Gregory Blackman
The Wolf Pack
Possession had robbed Lukas Wendish of rational thought, the friends closest to him, and the freewill to determine his own path in life, but it was his return to the pack that proved the most difficult bridge to cross. The others in the pack looked at him with pity in their crestfallen eyes, the wounded cub, brought back from the void by way of his mother’s tempered hand.
He didn’t think of it that way. To him possession was a dream state that he never wanted to leave. The lady’s red love was all he needed for that short while they were together in spirit. He cared not that they were mortal enemies or that she was queen of the kindred. He cared only for the lady. Now he would have to do without her embrace. That’s how Lukas Wendish was robbed.
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