Long have these rules bound Cetra and her ancestors. Long have they been their sole reason for existence. They held powers few could imagine, fewer could understand. Exposure to the outside world would mean the end of them; for the second time. Still, Cetra reckoned, there were none more trustworthy than the young Gemma Kohl, none more prepared for the tests ahead.
“I’ve been here all night,” she revealed. “I can’t quite place it, but I can’t quite shake it away, either. Something’s happened to our sister city. Only, I wasn’t sure of it until you walked through our front door. You’re mother spoke to you of the second pillar in Charleston?”
“She did, ma’am.”
“Nature has shifted against us,” said Cetra with a lump in her throat. “Never before has this happened. Not to us. Not even while the humans set our sisters afire in days past. I came here in search of help from those not affected by this dark parasite.”
“And what did they have to say?”
“Nothing,” she answered solemnly. “They have gone silent. Whatever comes to Salem it comes not for the vampires or werewolves. It comes for us, dear sister, and I fear it’s already been to Charleston.”
“What must we do?” Gemma asked.
As was custom amongst their people, she knelt down before the high priestess and sunk both hands into the dirt below. With a formal vow in their ancient tongue she became an extension of her priestess’ will. She would stand against the darkness, and she would stand proud, for she had the back of all those she swore to protect.
Cetra placed a hand on the young sister’s matted hair, and said, “We cannot wait any longer. We call forth the others.”
Chapter Twenty Six
Night Kings: Dayside
Gregory Blackman
Scars
Elsa knocked on the front door of her wayward friend. It went unanswered so she knocked again, and again, until the man inside had no choice but to confront the trespasser. She’d walked far from her gated community in the north to the farmland in the western edges of the city. It was a stark contrast to the busybody nature of her neck of the woods, where people kept to themselves. This was a place where you stuck together or you didn’t stick around. That could have been because they were all monstrous wolves, but it was a realization Elsa had only just arrived upon.
Lukas’ father owned a large tract of land and the boundless fields around—all for his pack to roam. It was land untouched my man’s hand, a place that animals could claim their own, a place the werewolves could return to innate forests that bore their ancestors. There was an entrance to these strange, foreign lands and it lay at the edge of the city’s border. That entrance was the Wendish estate. The last home on a dead end street that went on for miles until it reached his wooden gates.
The Wendish household was a sprawling country home that had seen more additions to its layout over the decades Bernhard stood on city council. It was a home that their family had slaved over, to make the perfect representation of their way of life, for themselves and the shadows it cast. As such, their blood ran deep in its foundation; father, mother, and son. It was a home that had been painted and repainted every single year, always a pristine white; the color of their moon gods above.
Elsa knocked away until her knuckles were tender and red. The door swung open and on the other side stood a bare-chested Lukas, perturbed, covered in black veins and his own blood.
“My god,” she gasped in alarm.
Elsa rushed to his side, but Lukas was in no mood for what he took as pity and pushed her back across the door’s threshold.
“You’re hurt,” Elsa said as she returned to his side. “Shouldn’t you be healing? I mean, um, don’t werewolves heal faster than us? I mean, aw shit… people. No, damn it, not that I meant to imply you’re not a person. I mean humans… regular, run-of-the-mill humans. Don’t you heal faster than humans?”
She fumbled with her words because she didn’t know what to say. Much had taken place since the days they were attached at the waist. She found a reaper torn limb from limb. She bore witness to a man in black that drifted between the lines of lucidity and insanity. And most recently one of her best friends, the man in front of her, tried to end her life while possessed by a lady in red.
“It’s part of the possession.” Lukas shifted his focus to the floor, and with the slump of his shoulders, moved aside so that she may enter unopposed. “It’ll take some time before all my wounds heal.”
When Elsa entered the house her eyes went immediately to the yawning cut that ran from lower back to just below his fourth rib. She knew this as they were ribs that stuck out like a sore thumb due to his lanky, malnourished frame.
All across that frame ran the snaked fingers of the vampire queen, centered into clusters around his infected, exposed tissue. No more the lady controlled him, but she would make it clear to all he knew that she wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“Why are all the lights out?” Elsa asked. She looked around the darkened, empty house, and saw not a room disturbed, save the drops of blood that originated from the kitchen. “Your parents not home?”
Lukas’ head sunk in contention and he shook it from side to side. “They’re out for a run while I recover.”
Both their eyes went to the festering wound upon his chest. Elsa had seen much trauma inflicted these last few days; witnessed events no human should lay eyes upon. So when it came to a friend in need she refused to shrink away from his touch.
Elsa’s hand lingered on his chest, undaunted by the sickly black veins that seemed to recoil from her fingers, and warm to the touch. That warmth came from the red hot blood a werewolf who pushed away from her the moment their eyes locked.
It wasn’t lack of comfort or the insecurity of his heart that made Lukas push away what he wanted most in this world. There was an unseen force that’d come to his home. It was the smell of rotten flesh and the secretions of the diseased; the scent of his enemy, or rather their servants.
“Elsa!” growled Lukas as he rushed out the front door to greet his concealed adversaries. “Get to the second floor!”
Elsa wouldn’t argue the orders her sometimes furred companion. Not when it came to his world—the night world. It was a world recently revealed to her and the only world that seemed interested in her any longer. Yet she couldn’t heed the entirety of his words. Not while Lukas’ life lay on the line.
She moved to the family room where a bay window offered her a glimpse of the many acres of land their front lawn surveyed. Elsa placed her hands upon the window and suckered against the glass in attempt to get as close to the action as possible. Outside the country home stood a defiant Lukas Wendish with the claws of his wolf extended by waist side.
The enemy he awaited came from all sides; ghouls, the sickly and the already forgone, now empty husks for the lady in red to control. These unwilling participants of the lady crossed the vast fields of the Wendish land at a listless pace. They were in no hurry to reach their destination. They had all sides of the house covered and there was nowhere for their prey to run, nowhere for them to hide.
Elsa waited with hushed breath as these monstrosities drew nearer. There was a part of her that wanted to flee this home and take her chances on the run. That part had been buried the moment she uncovered the truth of her hometown. Live or die, she would stand by her friend. Even if that meant she had to do it from as far away as possible.
Lukas waited until the ghouls had all but closed in on him before he began the transformation from man to monster. With his hands gripped on his sides Lukas stripped away the flesh that kept the wolf at bay.
He lunged at the ghouls without hesitation and tore two of them to shreds before they could think to raise their necrotized arms. His jaw clamped upon tainted flesh and bone after hallow bone, until the first wave of the lady’s army had bled out upon his front yard.
Elsa watched it unfold with wonder and admiration. Lukas bled from wounds not of this fight and still he took the o
ffensive with those that meant him harm. The carnage was a symphony to the feral wolf and his enemies the chords for him to pluck, one after the other until the second and third regiments were felled.
Elsa made a move for the front door, but several distortions in the distance forced her to reaffix herself to the glass in front of her. She banged on the window and shouted out for Lukas’ attention, but it was too late for mere words to save him.
While Lukas tore into the last of the ghouls a dozen or more vampires descended upon the lonely cottage home. He rose to defend himself from the attack, but was immediately struck down by the hands of many.
Run after run they took at him, quick bursts of offense that saw them to safety before the jaws of Lukas could find them. They took hold of him from all sides, the teeth and claws of his mortal enemy around his every extremity; holding, pulling, and tearing until he fell to the ground in submission.
“Father,” he whispers through pursed lips, “I’m sorry…”
With the last of his strength Lukas freed himself from the hands clasped around his jaw and released a harrowing wail into the night sky. Lukas called to those of his kind for assistance. He called for the pack he’d all but shunned while under the lady’s control; the same lady that laid him siege on this night.
His call for help turned into a dire cry as the vampires drove their fingers into his frame. Then his cry was no more. With hands once again wrapped around his mouth he was silenced to the world, to his family, and anyone else whose blood boiled at the sight of these undead monsters. The wolf and Lukas parted under duress and he changed back into the man that once stood defiant and strong.
Elsa banged on the window to no avail. The vampires had what they came for and no amount of distress from the inside would change that. Not unless one of them desired a snack after assured victory. It was then another shadow emerged from the tree line. It moved fast and it moved alone without pack or kindred to aid it.
The kindred atop Lukas disappeared in a burst of blood that saw the vampires scatter in all directions. The other vampires that surrounded weren’t prepared for the encounter and were caught at a disadvantage when the apparition in black came for them.
Remus moved on his kindred with a fire even the young wolf couldn’t muster at the height of his aggression. His movements mimicked the darkness that surrounded and allowed him to strike multiple opponents whether they were near or far from his shadowy tendrils. The same fate became of each that moved against him, evisceration, and a blood trail the reached well past the front yard.
Remus didn’t stop until only one of the vampires that attacked remained; the only one who knew better than to raise a fist against the infamous man in black, one time hand of the queen, and forever known as the butcher of many kindred. The distraught vampire backed into the fields he emerged from, but he would soon find that distance wasn’t an issue for one with command of the shroud.
In a field where no shadows lingered Remus found way to strike without a step in the fated vampire’s direction. A single oak tree provided Remus what he needed and its black fingers began to sprawl across the field on route to the shaken young vampire.
“No… please, not me,” cried the vampire with hands over his eyes in vain attempt to keep the darkness out. “No, no, no, no, no!”
His pleas went unanswered as the mile long shadow overtook him. He could not run. He could not halt its movement. He could only cry out in agony as the black vines made their way up his legs. All while the man in black conducted with hands elevated in symbiotic concord with the black fingers of the sole oak tree.
“Help me, mother…”
When the shadows reached the vampire’s chest he could no longer take the punishment inflicted on his soul. Blood spurted from eye sockets to the ground below as he drove his fingers in to ease the pain onset by the myriad of visions the darkness provided. He was enveloped by the shadow. Then he was gone, replaced by the nothingness that once ruled over these fields.
No ghouls lurked. No vampires lingered. There was only a half conscious Lukas Wendish, strewn out on the ground and covered in blood, and a man in black that just banished a dozen of his kind to the afterlife.
Lukas attempted to rise from the grass, but his gaping wounds prevented such a notion and saw him back to the ground in defeat. A hand reached down to aid him in this time of need. A hand he accepted without reservation. Right up until the moment he realized whom the ivory hand belonged to.
Lukas pulled back at moment his gaze met the man in black. It was a decision that proved foolish and for the third time tonight he struck the ground hard.
“Leave me,” he growled.
“There’s nothing I enjoy more than seeing a were-pup in distress,” said Remus with a devilish smirk stretched across his face, “but I assure you that we’re not done here tonight. The lady has plans for you. Plans you’d best avoid.”
Despite Lukas’ objections Remus was determined to see the werewolf off the ground and on to his feet. He was badly wounded and in no condition for another quarrel, but he would fight, because that was the only option left for him. So he picked himself up one last time and he stood beside the man in black, mortal enemy, now provisional ally against the coming storm.
“Quite the display the two of you put forth,” said a man from behind. “Never was much for kindred on kindred violence, myself. Find it taints the very nature of our way. You know, brothers in arms, honor among thieves; that sort of thing.”
Lukas and Remus spun around to the front door of the Wendish home. A door that now stood open.
“I honest truth?” the vampire asked as he emerged through the door. “It’s just too damn messy for my tastes. An old vampire is a messy vampire as my sire used to say. So I found a way to change the rules. I hope that doesn’t pose a problem for the two of you going forward.”
The vampire stepped over the door’s threshold and came under the unforgiving moon’s light, but he didn’t come alone. Elsa Dukane stood beside him with a hand wrapped around her throat.
Lukas had cause to lash out and end this vampire’s existence. Those reasons proved the very same as the ones that kept him flat footed. He couldn’t let her die. Lukas turned to his undead cohort in fear that the man in black would move where he could not.
He would find the man in black no better equipped to deal with this unforeseen threat. Elsa wasn’t what the lady in red wanted. She was a pawn, a bargaining chip to be used as she saw fit. Remus couldn’t act because he couldn’t lose her. Not until he had unraveled the truth of her nature.
“What do you say, gentleman?” the vampire asked. “Will you lend me your fangs?”
Chapter Twenty Seven
Night Kings: Dayside
Gregory Blackman
Spoiled Snacks
Ten yards separated Lukas from the best friend he’d ever known—ten yards that might as well have been a hundred.
Lukas couldn’t help but feel that he’d taken her for granted, for he always believed Elsa would be there for him when he needed her to be. She might judge, make the odd snide remark, but she would always be there with his best interests at heart; as long as she never uncovered the truth about his nature.
That time had come and gone and still Elsa stood by him. Now Lukas needed to be there in her time of need.
The beady red eyes of more vampires began to creep into the corners of his eyes. They watched from across the vast fields their predecessors had crossed, but they wouldn’t watch for long. Soon they would be upon them and Elsa would be meat for a monster that shouldn’t have passed. He failed her and he needed to be the one to set things right.
“You see that?” The vampire’s forked tongue slithered and slathered upon Elsa’s skin. Hard as she tried to avoid his touch it would be to no avail. He had her trapped underneath his thumb. “My brothers approach. They were once your brothers. Were they not? Oh, no, no, no, that’s right. You’ve forsaken your entire bloodline for some bitch of inconsequential worth
. What kind of kindred does that make you, Remus? You were once renowned hand of the queen with the admiration of kindred across the globe. What of that legacy now? Only the name betrayer seems to fit.”
A disconcerted Lukas looked towards his momentary ally with untrusting eyes. He now realized why the man in black refused to move against the vampire when he had the chance to do so. Remus’ eyes were set on her and they hadn’t wavered in the slightest.
The vampire on the front porch looked out to the fields with merriment. His grin was sickening and it stretched from ear to ear; tongue unfurled down the neck of his next potential feast.
“You see that?” he asked. “Those are my brothers… and soon… soon my queen will come. Then you’ll all wish for the death I give this young girl—.”
Before the vampire could act, the jaws of a werewolf were upon him, but they were not the jaws of Lukas. It was the white wolf of Aubrey Wendish that came and she clamped down on the vampire’s neck until he was forced to let Elsa slip from his grasp.
As the vampires approached from the tree line they would soon find that they were not alone in these fields. Led by a red wolf the others of the Wendish pack emerged from the shadows and took the attack to the vampires that trespassed on their land.
“Father,” whispered Lukas, “I fight with pride knowing that you fight beside me.”
Now that his friend was safe he fought with renewed purpose that he meant to see put to best use. The battle for the farm was over, but the war for Salem had only just begun, and though every bone in his body felt as if it’d been set on fire, Lukas fought tooth and nail to keep the vampires from the young woman on his front porch. He pushed through the pain, through the anger, and used the man, not the monster, to stave off the undead assault on his home.
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