She would be forgotten.
But, the goddess of the dust would only feel the full extent of her punishment if all that had remembered her died along with her dreams of genocide.
It was not the case.
A Yad’Zeen had survived; a single member of the sorcerous species that actually believed that A’Ranka had been right. That the world needed to be enshrouded in darkness for a new, and far superior race to emerge.
Gideon was the last of the Yad’Zeen, and knew that the vampires were who his goddess believed would worship her best, and should rule a planet purged of light. Thus it was up to him to complete the desires of his goddess.
For countless millennia he had kept his goddess alive with his thoughts and worship of her. He could feel her, locked away in her temple prison, but knew that he did not have the power or strength to free her. It was when he met with the vampires, forming an alliance with the ruling body of the blood-drinkers, that he saw his success drawing closer.
Teamed with Vladek, they fought their way to his mistress, and imagined that their success was inevitable.
But it was not to be. An order of human zealots—an order of Brimstone—prevented them from reaching their destination. Both he and the vampire Vladek were imprisoned, but it did not crush his spirit. Gideon knew that there would come a time again when he would be free, and the wishes of his goddess could again be realized.
Gideon never gave up thinking of her, praying to the goddess of the dust, but he feared that eventually it would not be enough, that A’Ranka would fade away, not strong enough to be remembered.
This had been his terror since obtaining his freedom; for no matter how hard he prayed, Gideon could not feel her.
The last of the Yad’Zeen was about admit that his goddess was no more, that no matter how hard he tried to keep the memory of her alive, he had failed miserably, and she had been sent tumbling into the abyss of forgotten deities, when he felt something.
It was so tiny and frail that it barely existed; a last spark of existence before an inevitable end.
Gideon blew upon the spark, watching as it grew brighter, pulling it up from the pit of oblivion.
He had found his goddess.
She was so weak, but she was alive, hungry to be nurtured by the prayers of countless worshippers. There was only him now, but soon, when the sky was black, covered in a shroud of dust …
There would be more.
Bram lay upon the worn, leather couch in his father’s office at the Brimstone Network headquarters thinking about how nice it would be to go to sleep.
He was exhausted, his eyes burning from lack of rest, but he could do nothing to calm his frenzied mind.
Over and over again he reviewed his team’s failure.
His failure.
Looking back, he could see all the mistakes they’d made, and realized how lucky they had been to be able to walk away.
The vampire was bent on retrieving Gideon’s remains, which meant he was up to something.
But what?
Bram sat up, resigning himself to the fact that there would be no sleep for him tonight. He considered going down to the basement to talk with the Archivist, but he was too restless. He needed to do more than stand around listening while a ghostly image of his father spouted information. Bram wanted to flip over a few rocks and see what he could find.
And he knew exactly where those rocks might be.
The abandoned Brimstone instillation was huge. The middle floors of the renovated castle had been designed as living quarters for the brave men and women who had devoted their lives to the Network’s cause. As Bram strolled through the corridors, he tried to imagine them filled with agents going here and there at all hours, but could only think of the horrors that had been committed here not so long ago.
Now they were just silent, except for Bogey’s snoring.
Bram entered the Mauthe Dhoog’s room, his boots crunching on the crumbs of corn chips and various other foods that the snack-obsessed creature had been shoving in his mouth. There was a bed in the far corner of the darkened room, but Bogey did not sleep as one would imagine.
Bram dropped to his knees and reached under the bed for his friend.
“Hey,” Bram said, gripping his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Hey, wake up, I need you for something.”
“But it’s too early, I don’t want to go on a Bilesucker hunt,” the Mauthe Dhoog grumbled, still in the grip of sleep. He rolled over and away, wedging himself farther into a corner beneath the bed.
Bram dropped to his belly and grabbed the seat of Bogey’s loose-fitting jeans, yanking the gray-skinned beastie out from under the bed.
Bogey’s solid black eyes suddenly came open. “Let me guess,” he said. “You need me for something and it’s got nothing to do with hunting Bilesuckers.”
“Good guess,” Bram said, climbing to his feet. He kept his voice low, not wanting to wake the others. “I want you to rift me back to the cave where they imprisoned Vladek.”
Bogey got up, picking up stray crumbs from the floor and popping them into his mouth. “Little morning pick-me-up,” he said. Then he took a deep breath and cracked his knuckles. “Why do we have to go back there?” he asked. “You’ve seen one cave full of old crap, you’ve seen ’em all.”
“I want to look around,” Bram explained. “I want to be sure we didn’t miss anything that might help us now.”
Bogey shrugged and, digging into his memory, opened a rift back to the musty old cave in the Ural Mountains.
The lighting that had been left behind by whoever had disturbed the vampire’s prison was still functioning, but the batteries must have been getting low. The deep chamber was slowly being consumed by darkness.
“Any idea what it is that you’re looking for?” Bogey asked as he picked up what looked to be an incredibly old statue of some ancient goddess and immediately broke off one of its arms. “Oops,” he said, a flush of red spreading across the gray of his cheeks. “Gotta be careful with this junk.”
“Exactly,” Bram said.
He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he’d know it when he saw it. He was drawn to the stone box where the vampire had been imprisoned for thousands of years.
“Can you imagine?” Bogey mused, hanging on the rim of the box, peering inside at the darkness contained within. “There’s barely enough room even for me in there. I’d probably lose my nut after the first five minutes. But at least they gave him something to read.”
Bram was already moving on to another area of the storage cave when he realized how odd Bogey’s last words were.
“They gave him something to read?” Bram asked.
Bogey nodded. “Yeah, there’s some books and stuff inside the box.” He hooked a thumb to the stone square behind him.
Bram darted back to the box and reached inside. Bogey had been right, there were books inside, ancient books, books so old that they could very well crumble if touched too roughly.
The young leader of the Brimstone Network ghosted his hands, making them as soft as air on the fragile tomes, but solid enough so that they could be gently moved.
Bram immediately began to read.
Unaware of how much time had passed, he was suddenly distracted by Bogey clearing his throat.
“So, anything good?” the Mauthe Dhoog asked.
Bram felt uneasy as he took his eyes from the ancient text. “Nothing really good, but it is helpful.”
“Helpful? Like the vampire’s current address helpful?”
Bram shook his head slowly.
“No, like the notes of my ancestor good,” he explained. “These books contain the information that they got from Vladek when they studied him … before they locked him away.”
“Cool,” Bogey said, reaching for one of the books.
Bram quickly moved the book out of his reach.
“Not cool,” Bram said, feeling suddenly queasy. “If what it says here is true, we’re in trouble.
&nb
sp; “Really deep trouble.”
9.
AIR BRAZIL FLIGHT 1406 WAS BUFFETED BY TURBULENCE.
Lewis Tyker gripped the armrests on his seat in coach, listening to the large woman in the bright orange sweat suit across the aisle cry out with every shake and sudden drop.
He wanted to tell her that minor turbulence was the least of her worries, that if she knew what was resting in a transport crate inside the belly of the plane, or even what he was carrying in the small duffel bag stored beneath the seat in front of him, she would know the very definition of the word “fear.”
Lewis closed his eyes, attempting to focus on other things.
When his master had awakened, the head of Gideon had babbled excitedly about a goddess called A’Ranka. He had insisted that they go to her at once.
The man flinched at the memory of what happened next. Vladek had ordered Lewis to make passage for them, and foolishly the human had allowed his curiosity to get the better of him. He had asked about their plans.
He shuddered violently, remembering the vampire’s rage. Lewis had felt certain he was about to die, but the head—Gideon—had intervened, reminding Vladek that Lewis would be needed to deal with the human world.
“Are you cold?” somebody asked, and it took him a moment to realize that somebody was talking to him.
Lewis looked to his right, seeing the large woman offering him a blanket. “I saw you shivering … here, put this over you.”
She smiled, showing him large, white teeth stained with bright red lipstick.
“I’m fine,” Lewis snapped, touching a trembling hand to his throat. He was glad to still have one, as he thought of the vampire’s razor-sharp teeth.
He gazed at the night sky outside the window, the stars and darkness like twinkling diamonds laid upon black velvet.
Lewis had made the flight reservations and arranged to ship Vladek’s traveling crate without further hesitation, nearly draining his own bank account. They were headed to the jungles of South America.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again. Maybe I can sleep, he thought, and actually began to feel himself drift off.
Until he heard Gideon’s voice. He came awake with a start, looking around for the source of the muffled sound, before remembering that it was coming from under the seat in front of him.
The large woman in the orange sweat suit had purchased headphones for the in-flight movie but was watching him instead. He wondered if she could hear Gideon’s voice.
Lewis pulled the duffel bag out from under the seat and unzipped it.
“We’re close,” Gideon croaked. “We’re very, very close.”
He was about to ask the sorcerer what he should do, when a thick drifting mist started to seep up from the floor—from the storage cabin beneath the plane.
The large woman craned her neck, trying to see into the bag. Lewis tilted it just enough for her to see Gideon’s head inside.
Her screams mixed with those of the other passengers as the mist began to solidify, taking on a manlike shape. The vampire roared, springing upon his victims with incredible speed and ferocity. One by one the passengers fell to his bite, drained of their blood before they could even think of unclipping their seat belts.
The large woman in the orange sweat suit screamed the loudest as Vladek perched upon her, drinking her blood. Lewis didn’t enjoy the awful noise and reached across the aisle to pull the dangling earplugs from her ears. He placed them in his own ears, plugging into the film that was playing on the small monitor over the aisle ahead of him.
Drowning out the sound of slaughter.
The head of Gideon could feel the dwindling presence of his goddess close by, and grew excited. This was it, what had been denied to him and his blood-drinking partner for so very long.
The screams of the dying passengers were like a symphony to the ancient magick user, a symphony written especially for their quickly approaching triumph.
But there was still a step that needed to be completed before their meeting with destiny. Vladek’s people must be made to know that the time was approaching so that they could prepare for the domination of the world.
The withered head closed its eyes, using magickal senses to locate the vampire species. He had no idea of their fate since his imprisonment; the last he knew, the blood clans were hidden around the world, but try as he might, he could not find them.
“Blast,” Gideon hissed, and he extended his search to worlds beyond this one, piercing the layers that separated this world from so, so many others.
“Yes,” he said, suddenly finding them in a deep, dark pocket of shadow.
The Brimstone Order must’ve thought themselves so brilliant, he mused as he reached out to touch this cold, barren world that had become the home of the vampire species. Hiding you away as they had done with Vladek, and with me.
Hiding us away so we could no longer do any harm.
And with that thought, the ancient sorcerer’s head nestled comfortably within the duffel bag began to laugh.
Bram waited in the Archivist’s chamber for the others to arrive.
The Archivist had not been surprised by their find, explaining that in the earlier days of the Brimstone organization certain pieces of information deemed too dangerous for Earth were often sealed away. Vladek and all the information associated with him were considered just such information. It was intended that he never be disturbed.
And the plan might have worked, if it hadn’t been for the supernatural event that caused so many of the ancient barriers to come down.
The team finally started to arrive, taking seats in the chairs they’d brought earlier from the cafeteria. Stitch accompanied Emily in her wolfen shape. Bogey was next, the Mauthe Dhoog eating what appeared to be a gigantic cold-cut sandwich despite the early morning hours. Douglas and Dez were last, the boy’s father wheeling the sleepy-eyed psychokinetic into the room.
“Why couldn’t this have waited until the sun came up?” Dez asked.
Bram felt a flutter of nerves in his belly. While he’d been waiting for his team, he’d been formulating his battle plan.
And he was now about to share it with them.
“Sorry about the early hour,” he said, trying to stand taller. “But what I’ve learned over the last few hours can’t wait. I think I know how we can stop Vladek.”
Bram watched Emily tense in her seat. The werewolf looked totally out of place in the orange-backed chair.
“Does this have anything to do with me?” she growled.
“It does,” Bram answered. “It’s going to take all of us to stop Vladek and Gideon.”
Dez yawned loudly, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Do we even know what they’re up to?”
“No good,” Bogey chimed in before taking another bite of his enormous sandwich. “If a vampire is involved, it has to be no good.”
“I don’t know for sure, but I have my suspicions,” Bram said. “And if I’m right, we’re going to have to move quickly or we’ll be too late.”
An ominous silence filled the room.
“Does anybody have any mayo?” Bogey suddenly asked. He had opened up his sandwich and was eyeing the multi-layered meats, cheeses, and vegetables like a surgeon preparing to operate. “I told the guy at the FastMart lots of mayo, but it looks like he skipped the lots part.”
“Why would any of us have mayo?” Dez asked, clearly annoyed. “It’s the middle of the freakin’ night.”
“A simple no would have been fine,” Bogey said, pouting.
Stitch loudly cleared his throat. “If we could resume the briefing?”
Bogey shrugged, continuing to poke around inside his sandwich while Dez rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Dez,” Bram said, trying to focus his team. “You asked what Vladek and Gideon were up to. I believe it has something to do with an ancient death goddess called A’Ranka.” He looked at the Archivist to make sure his pronunciation was right, and the ghostly figured nodded his a
pproval.
“Figures it’s a death goddess,” Bogey said, closing his sandwich. “Couldn’t be a flower goddess, or a goddess of line dancing, it has to be a death goddess.”
“As I was saying,” Bram said, ignoring Bogey’s outburst. “It looks like Gideon was unusually interested in this goddess, who was also known as the goddess of dust. According to the legends, she didn’t feel like her followers loved her enough, so she planned to cause some world-altering event to wipe them out to make way for followers who would love her above all else.”
“And how was she going to do that?” Dez asked. His father, still standing behind his chair, patted him proudly on the shoulder.
“A’Ranka was going to blot out the sun,” Bram said, feeling himself growing very cold. “She was going to raise the dust of the dead and use it to cover the sun.”
“That’s cold,” Bogey said, a piece of soggy bread hanging from the corner of his mouth.
“Exactly,” Bram said. “Without the sun it would be cold indeed, and the world would be plunged into total darkness.”
Emily shifted her animal bulk in the chair. “I don’t get it. What kind of world would that be for her new followers?”
Bram remained quiet, letting them put the pieces of the puzzle together.
“Oh, crap,” Bogey said, dropping what remained of his sandwich.
“Vampires,” Emily said, a throaty growl rumbling from her chest.
Bram nodded. “Of course, A’Ranka was stopped. The god of the sun—Borphagal—defeated her in battle, and then imprisoned her in one of her own temples.”
“But it doesn’t end there, does it,” Dez said.
Bram shook his head.
“You think that Vladek and Gideon are up to something that involves this A’Ranka.”
Bram agreed with a nod and continued.
“They were stopped once, but now I think they’re about to try it again. I think they’re going to try to awaken the death goddess and convince her to try her plan again.”
“So how do you think we can stop them?” Stitch asked.
“Well, for starters, Vladek’s heart was magickally removed, which makes him practically invincible. Bogey and I found some documents in the stone case where he was imprisoned that indicate it was given to the vampire royal family and taken to Nocturnia.” Bram looked at his team. “We have to find that heart.”
The Shroud of A'Ranka (Brimstone Network Trilogy) Page 9