Night Kings: The Complete Anthology

by Gregory Blackman

  He thought the man in black the guilty party, but when Victor went to the manor he found the vampire king tended to nothing but a sad, lonely kingdom. There no guards lined the outer walkways, no supporters beckoned in the courtyard. It was a quiet place where not a soul rested, save the man in black and his shadow army.

  That meant another took her, so Victor set forth to all the vampire dens on his nefarious list. He found that each of the dens he visited was the same story reenacted. The houses were vacant, filled only with bullet-ridden furniture and coffins.

  He was to know where these dens were, but not to act upon that knowledge. Not until the lady in red wished it so.

  Months back, before the reaper was found, Xenia came to him in the dead of night. Together they joined in a secret union, one unknown to the witches and the werewolves. His motives were pure on that fateful night, but ever since he’d become tainted by dark forces he couldn’t begin to understand.

  When not a single vampire could be found in the city of Salem it then Victor Dukane had to face the prospect that it was the others, the ones he feared most of all, that’d taken his daughter from him.

  In his panic to find out more information, Victor returned to their gated community where his notes were compiled. His neighbors didn’t know the truth behind the evils they faced tonight, but even their dulled, human senses could detect the dark presence that waited outside their homes. That made for quieted streets, stirred only by the flapping wings of a thick-billed raven. It landed on the home of Victor Dukane, watched, and waited until the time was right. No different than the times before.

  Victor opened the front door of his home in full stride. He wasn’t sure of what he searched for. He only hoped that somewhere, in some document, there was an answer to his problems.

  A stifled noise from the family room across the hall caught his attention. Had his daughter returned while he was out? That was the question that stirred in the pit of Victor Dukane as he entered the darkened room. He would soon find out the answer was far more complicated.

  “The werewolves believe the full moon was meant for them alone,” the hoarse voice of Hans Brackhaus rang out through the family room. “Brutish animals that care little for those that came before them. They think themselves above us, Homo superior or something of that ilk. Foolish, that’s what they are, and young, too young, to know truth behind those moon gods of theirs.”

  Hans stood masked in the shadows of Victor’s front bay window. With his back turned to Victor, he looked out the window to the front yard where not even a raven watched this night. “They deserve everything that comes to them.”

  Victor hands trembled in rage and he approached the man before him, but as he grabbed hold of Hans’ shoulder he was overwhelmed by a sense of dread.

  “I don’t know what you think—.”

  “I think you do,” Hans replied with cold eyes that refused to back down. “I think you know better than you let on. I came to you all those years ago because I saw something in you. Yet, for the life of me I can’t remember what that something was. You’ve grown weak, accustomed to the power you’ve been given, but it would’ve all been forgiven had you not been complacent to the enemies we face. To my people that’s the most unforgiveable sin of all.”

  “It could’ve been anyone,” Hans trailed on, “but the others decided that man would be you, Mr. Dukane; and for that I think they deserve a modicum of respect. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I’m still that man. I can still bridge that gap.”

  “Are you? Can you, really?” Hans asked with a peculiar glint in his eyes. “A rabid band of werewolves approaches the town as we speak. Open your eyes. Salem’s lost to us. This alliance you made only served to deepen their roots in the community. There isn’t a block in the city of Salem where their dark ties don’t run. Are you that blind? Are you that arrogant?”

  Victor wanted to fight back with every fiber of his being, but in the face of the truest evil he’d ever known, nothing he could fathom would be enough to stem the tide. With only the safety of his daughter in mind, he clasped his hands together, and pleaded, “It’s not too late—.”

  “But it is, brother,” said Hans, turned to face his onetime associate. “Charleston is in flames and soon a similar fate will befall Salem.”

  “It could all have been prevented,” Hans said with a step forward. “If only you’d heeded my warnings and stopped this alliance before it got off the ground. You condemned this city, Victor, and all who dwell within… even your precise, little girl.”

  Suddenly it became clear to the embattled mayor. At last, Victor saw the man before him for what he really was, what he had been since day one.

  “It was you,” an addled Victor said. “You killed the reaper. You flushed the vampires from their dens… our people could’ve been killed in those damned assaults!”

  Hans waved his finger from side to side, sinewy grin plastered on his face. There was only one man in this city that could stand toe to toe with Hans Brackhaus. No matter how brawny he made himself appear, that man wasn’t Victor Dukane. That man was Bernhard Wendish, a man now six feet under the vampire queen’s heel.

  “But they aren’t my people, Mr. Mayor,” said Hans through pursed lips. “These are your people, the whiny, gluttonous lot of them.”

  “Why did you do it?” Victor asked. “The reaper’s death put this all in motion. You caused this! You’re the one who brought Hell to Salem!”

  “Don’t be melodramatic.” The dark robed councilor hadn’t once taken his eyes off the embattled mayor. His stare was haunting, but his opponent was hardened after so many of their meetings and held his ground admirably. In the end Victor would crack, as had everyone before him. “What happens next was predetermined a millennium ago. Though, I’ll admit the discovery of a reaper in Salem moved our plans forward a few years…”

  “Who do you work for?” Victor asked. “I want the real name behind the attack. Not the name I was given all those years ago.”

  “You know,” said Hans as he turned back to face the bay window, “the reaper asked the same thing before I beat him to death. What makes you believe your luck any better than his?”

  “You stood against a reaper on equal ground?” Victor balked at the thought. He would’ve been in stitches had this man not sent a shiver down every bone in his body. “I think not.”

  “It’s true,” Hans said. “I wouldn’t want to meet one in a dark alley. I also wouldn’t want to meet one in a fair fight. Luckily, neither of those events happened. I lured him to the forests where I had some disgruntled werewolves and junkie vampires laying in wait. I even let him kill off all but a few of the warrior caste before I stepped in to finish the deed.”

  Hans Brackhaus became a different man overnight. Maybe it was the man he always was, before he came to the New World, now shown in true color to the man he worked alongside for decades. When Victor was approached by Hans it was under much different circumstances than the ones they now found themselves. He was young, eager to make his mark on the world; but the world wanted nothing to do with him. It made Hans’ offer for power all the more tempting to take.

  “These reapers,” said Hans, the disdain in his voice resonating throughout every word he spoke, “they’re abominations of nature. Hodgepodge human warriors of so-called superior genetic potential, grafted with the souls of dead men and women. It’s perverse and only shows that the humans lack the strength and conviction to fight the monsters in the light.”

  “Is that were you bring the fight?” Victor asked with his hands balled up in anger. “I see nothing but darkness out my front window. I know what you’re doing to the land. What I lack is the logic that could bring a man to destroy the city he helped build.”

  Hans’ contempt for Victor and his fabricated love for these humans was transparent. From this contempt arose a hearty rumble from the pit of his bowels that bellowed throughout the family room of the Dukane home.

  “You keep referrin
g to Salem as if it’s the prize here,” Hans said as he returned to his place in front of the mayor.

  There was an idiosyncratic glimmer in his eye, as though Hans was privy to information Victor lacked. Hans drew closer to get a better look at the man he once respected a great deal. That man no longer stood before Hans. Now Victor stood no different than the monsters he sought to exterminate.

  “All these years,” said Hans Brackhaus, “and I never saw it until tonight.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Hans pressed his index finger into the head of Victor Dukane. His nail dug into his flesh until blood was drawn, but still the unfazed mayor took it in stride. “It’s one thing to fail our associates, another to subvert their operation.”

  “I don’t know what you are, Mr. Mayor. Don’t think you’re liable to tell me much, either,” said Hans as he pushed hard as he could until Victor backed down from his place, “but another has the information I desire…”

  “She isn’t part of this!” the mayor shouted. His hands swelled with rage that fired upward throughout his body, from one extremity to the next, until Victor’s whole body shook uncontrollably. He stepped forward, back into place, and dared the dark robed councilor to draw more of his blood.

  He never wanted his daughter involved in this dark world of his. When she was born human he breathed a sigh of relief, for that meant she would never truly know his sorrows. Elsa’s mother discovered those sorrows for herself and it drove her to the darkest path of all.

  Laura Dukane believed she gave birth to a demon child, a monster, which would bring untold horrors upon the world which she lived. Victor tried to reason with Laura, convince her that had Elsa been different it would’ve been apparent at birth, that there’s never before been a half-breed of their kind. None of that mattered to a woman that believed the antichrist had born from her belly.

  He feared that if his daughter joined the ranks of the learned the same fate would befall her. Now it appeared that decision would be made for him.

  “Oh, she didn’t tell you?” Hans asked. “It appears that beloved daughter shares daddy’s secret. She must not have trusted you enough with the truth. It’s such a pity when families collapse, is it not?”

  Victor Dukane could stomach the insults. He could take the coercion and the strong-armed tactics. What he couldn’t stand any longer were the threats to his daughter’s livelihood. He’d gone to great lengths to protect her, keep her from the truth that drove their family to the brink, but those times were behind them both.

  “Do not threaten my daughter again,” said Victor, brazenly. “Bad things happen to those that do.”

  The shake of Victor’s hands transferred from his body to the floorboards beneath. The unbridled, raw energy passed to the walls, the ceilings, and then to the home’s foundation. All the while Hans Brackhaus looked on with dumbfounded smile pressed into his face.

  All of a sudden, when it appeared the entire house would come down around them, the tremors stopped and the home settled back into place. This short-lived peace of theirs proved to be just that, fleeted, and soon all out war was declared between the oldest of friends. Victor’s eyes burst with flames of white that crackled and spit forth in the councilor’s direction, but still Hans kept his composure in the face of this unknown presence.

  “Goodbye, brother,” said Victor Dukane as cracks of light emanated from inside his balled up fists. “I hardly knew you.”

  Victor moved to release the energy within his hands, but found the ability to do so beyond his grasp. He looked down to fists that wouldn’t budge an inch, and feet no different than his arms.

  As Victor’s gaze of white returned to Hans Brackhaus he found the family room was filled with others dressed in the same black robes. These men wore hoods to shroud their faces, but through eyes that could see all, their faces couldn’t be more transparent. These were the others Hans mentioned. They came at last.

  Victor was struck in the back of the head, and as he phased from this reality to the next, he tried once more to strike with his light. Even as he fell to the floor below, Victor found his hands frozen in place, his moment to strike lost to him forever.

  It was too late for the aged Victor Dukane. He wasn’t there for his daughter when she needed him. Now he never would. She would be forever lost to the world, unaware of what the truth behind the light and the gifts it could bestow.

  He failed his daughter. He failed everyone in Salem. The darkness came and it devoured him whole.

  Chapter Forty Eight

  Night Kings: Darkest of Depths

  Gregory Blackman

  Catch and Release

  The forceful impact a duality of spirits could have over a person wasn’t lost of Elsa Dukane. She knew too well what kind of damage a foreign spirit could wreck upon one’s psyche. She’d never felt more unsure of herself, more vulnerable, and the harder she tried to figure herself out the less of a grasp she seemed to have on the truth.

  She could see that same struggle in Lukas’ eyes, and in his heart. He was tearing himself apart, piece by piece, both of the flesh and of the mind.

  “Tell me what’s happening,” Elsa said to ease his burdens. “Tell me what the hell’s going on with you?”

  “I can’t,” Lukas cried atop the crack of his bones. “We don’t have any time… Ah!”

  He attempted to delay the process, and to considerable pains, she couldn’t help but note. He grimaced and contorted on the floor, but still Elsa pressed him for information and reached out for support. Anything she could do to keep his mind here with them.

  “You’re going to argue against,” she said, “I’m going to come back with a reason for, and this is going to continue until I’m having this discussion with a furry, little animal.”

  “You’ll find I’m not that little, Elsa Dukane,” said the inner werewolf with eyes bursting with an amber aura. Lukas shook off the beast inside, but both of them knew he would be back sooner or later.

  “You n-need to get back to the hatch,” stammered Lukas, his eyes returned to their natural hazel. “There’s a chance you’ll be safe over there.”

  “You’re wasting time,” Elsa said.

  Lukas clutched his ribs and growled in torment. He would’ve thrown himself against the walls in a fit of rage had it not been for the iron chains that held him in place. “Where do I start?”

  “I think you just answered that question,” she said, sly grin on her face. “The start sounds as good a place as any.”

  “There’s no time.”

  He howled in agony as his wrists snapped, and snapped again, in a desperate attempt to free himself from the iron shackles.

  “There’s always time,” Elsa said in attempt to delay the inevitable. She wanted to help him, be there in his time of need, but there was no salvation to be had anymore. In this moment she understood what it must have been like to look into her eyes the night of the farm. Somewhere in their conversation Lukas had slipped away into the night. He was no longer tethered to this world.

  At last the gravity of the situation had sunk in for Elsa Dukane. There were no more quips, no more quibbles out of her mouth. Lukas was lost to her. Maybe it’d been that way from the start of their relationship. Since they were snot nosed brats the ties between Lukas and Elsa ran thicker than water. She couldn’t place her feelings for him. Not before her world had been turned upside down. How was she to place those feelings afterwards?

  It all became awash in a myriad of responses and emotions. Up was left and black was a thousand shades of varying evil. One of those shades stood on all fours before her right now, covered in the blood and bile of his former skin.

  “No more time,” the wolf grunted, in chains with his back to Elsa Dukane. “Not for us.”

  The beast spoke in short, precise sentences. Elsa wasn’t sure if it was because the syllables were too complex or that the language of humans disgusted the inner werewolf. She quickly found out the truth when the fully turned werewol
f turned to meet her gaze.

  “I can’t,” growled Lukas underneath the werewolf’s control. He was fraught with guilt, but unable to do anything about it. The inner werewolf had him tonight. That’s the way it’d always been and the way it would remain if the moon gods had their way. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight the beast at every turn. He lunged towards the woman he loved, all the same.

  Elsa didn’t flinch in the face of Lukas’ true monster. She submerged to the darkest of depths where her other dwelled. When the werewolf came at her, she was there to greet him with eyes of white fury.

  She braced for an attack that never came. With the cock of her head sideways she looked at the werewolf now dead in his tracks. Half of her wanted to destroy the potential enemy before her and the other half of her wanted to save him; a duality of spirits that wrecked havoc for both sides.

  The fight was far from over, but for now Lukas Wendish had won the battle over his beast of burden. He wasn’t sure how he’d managed such a feat, something never before heard of among their kind.

  It was the archdemons of the nine circles that found and enslaved them on some distant world, but it was the moon gods that freed them and gave them back their humanity. That salvation came with a price, one that was being paid tonight. Or at least, that’s how things should’ve been. Whether it was through the warrior of light, himself, or the conflicted emotions that tugged on every fiber of his being, Lukas denied those gods their right and suppressed his inner monster.

  “The dark one will soon come back,” Lukas growled before he dug his teeth into the iron shackles that chained him to the wall. “What now?”

  “There’s only one thing left to do,” Elsa said. At this moment the interests of Elsa and her other spirit were aligned. She raised her hand in the direction of his chains, and with a flick of her fingers, four strands of white light struck the chains where they were bound. “We fight back.”