by Leo Romero
Contents
TITLE PAGE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
THANKS FOR READING
THE CLAW ORDER
FANGHUNTERS BOOK FOUR
LEO ROMERO
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Copyright © 2016 Leo Romero
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
Cover art by Lou Harper © 2016
PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
July 9th 1957 – Baghdad
The midday sun burned in the sky like a giant, glowing eye as Faisal Malik scaled the side of the Al-Hurria Palace like a thief in the night. He’d successfully evaded the the daytime guards patrolling the outer grounds using stealth and trickery, just as Clement DeNoir had taught them all. DeNoir’s nearby excavation was nothing but a front. A cover story in order for the band of hunters to train and then get as close as possible to the palace and ultimately the beast dwelling within its confines. And now, after weeks of toiling in the desert, it was time to strike.
Faisal had snuck through the shadows as nimble as the cats the Claw Order worshipped and made it to the lair of the dark beast, Rah. Now, he was almost inside, where the second part of his mission would begin.
He crammed his fingers into the small slots between the stonework of the palace wall and took a glance down; the ground seemed a thousand meters away. A couple of day guards stood beneath him, blissfully unaware of his presence. High above him, the sun burned down on everything. Faisal took a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow before reaching up for the ledge above him. Clutching it with both hands, he hoisted himself up, careful not to release a sound, the muscles in his arms straining. He gritted his teeth as he applied more pressure, using his elbows as levers to winch himself up toward the open window.
Faisal had youth and strength on his side. He managed to pull his body up without making a sound. He flipped his legs over the window ledge and through into the room beyond. He made sure to land as light as possible, his sandals touching the marble floor. Without hesitation, he backed up against the wall of the corridor he found himself in, his eyes rolling left and right, his breathing ragged. From his robes, he unsheathed a small dagger, just in case any nearby guards had been alerted to his presence. He watched both ends of the corridor with paranoid eyes.
After a few moments of silence, he calmed, lowering his dagger. He was inside the palace. Now he had to locate Rah. He surveyed his surroundings; the corridor ran into the near distance. From counting the floors as he scaled them, he was on the third, with no idea where the beast lay. The only open window led him up here, and now he had to use his third eye to guide him to Rah’s lair, just as Clement had taught him. Let the third eye lead you, Clement always said. The tingle in your spine.
Clement always used victims of vampires as assassins because they possessed the third eye. It made them dangerous to vampires. They feared the assassins, the ones who were once their victims. Faisal praised God for the third eye; the gift He bestowed in the fight against the dark beasts. Faisal glanced to the ceiling and uttered the word ‘Mashallah,’ in praise of God almighty. He then thought of the beast lying in his darkened room. He’d be surrounded by gold, jewels, trinkets. False worship. A sacrilege to everything spoken about in the Holy texts; a reversal from all that is good and just. And it was Faisal’s duty unto God to slay the beast.
He closed his eyes and concentrated on his third eye. At that moment, it was silent. It meant he had to delve deeper into the confines of the palace. He began tiptoeing through the corridor, hugging the stone wall, his eyes ever alert, his breathing shallow, his dagger at the ready. As he moved, Faisal’s senses became acute. Especially his sense of hearing. Out of the group, he possessed the most sensitive hearing. They joked that Faisal could hear a harem girl faking orgasm across the Sahara. And Faisal always maintained that was fact. His hearing was so good, he didn’t need eyes.
And just then, his ears pricked. He stopped and listened. Footfalls. Heading his way.
Faisal’s eyes widened. He spun his head left and right, looking for a place to hide. In the corner of the corridor stood a Babylonian statue depicting a lion with a man’s head. Faisal went on nimble feet and ducked behind the abomination, making himself as thin as possible. From the edge of the statue, he watched on, the footfalls growing louder in his ears as the seconds passed.
A day guard, no doubt awaiting his vampire poison, appeared around the opposite corner from where Faisal was hiding. He marched along the corridor toward Faisal’s position. He was dressed in the customary attire for Claw Order; black robes and a bright red headdress denoting the blood his master Rah thrived on. On his side was a scimitar, gleaming in the daylight shining through the windows. His face was emotionless, his eyes glazed; the look of a victim. Faisal knew it all too well.
The day guard made his way along the corridor toward the statue Faisal was hiding behind. Faisal held his breath, making himself as still as the statue obscuring him. The guard’s footsteps grew louder. Faisal closed his eyes, his face pinched.
Just go, he urged the guard. Just go about your business and leave me in peace.
The guard drew closer and Faisal’s instincts began to scream at him to attack. His inexperience was getting the better of him. His heart began to beat hard, sweat was starting to pour down his forehead. Something inside him was screaming to rush in before the guard caught him. But, he resisted the urge. Clement always said to keep calm, to be like a shadow, never act in a rash manner.
Faisal remained where he was, his lips trembling, his eyes closed tight. The guard reached the statue, then rounded the corner. He entered a stairwell and his footfalls petered out into the distance.
&nbs
p; Faisal’s chest released. He took quick, hot breaths. The urge had been strong, but he remained calm. But, he knew he couldn’t remain in the palace for too long. Eventually, the guards would catch him and behead him. He re-emerged from behind the grotesque statue and slid toward the corridor the guard had passed through. He rounded the corner, utilizing every inch of shadow to melt into. He was bent down low, treading carefully, watching everything: the paintings, the statues, the ornate pottery. This was once a place for kings, now it was the dwelling of a monster. He scampered past giant mirrors, portraits of long dead kings and queens, until he reached a stairwell. He gazed up the steps. As he did, a slight tingle crawled up and down his spine. Faisal closed his eyes. His third eye had been activated. He opened his eyes again and looked up the stairs ahead of him. He nodded. Up there was where the beast lay. Where it could gaze down on everything.
Faisal set off up the steps, all the while that tingling growing stronger. He hugged the wall as he went, his eyes fixed on the summit of the stairs, his jaw hanging open. His mouth was dry and sweat was perforated all over his body, but he had to ignore such discomforts; he had to complete his task, and failure wasn’t an option.
On the tips of his sandals, he made it near the summit where he paused and listened with intent. In the near distance, there was a cough. Faisal pinpointed its location—around halfway along the corridor he was about to enter. Another day guard was there, waiting.
Faisal peeked around the corner. His eyes widened. The corridor was populated with cats. Some sat on sideboards, while others were curled in balls on the floor. Some sat on their haunches, watching him with their piercing green eyes. Faisal eyed them with suspicion. Cats had a unity with the Claw Order, and their minions praised them. They seemed to populate around vampires, almost like a dog always wanting to be near its master. Faisal knew Rah was nearby, the cats were the final indicator.
His eyes fell on the day guard standing to attention outside a set of double doors. Faisal nodded to himself. Rah was behind those doors, he knew it. He had to get that guard to move from his position. He needed a diversion. He rubbed his sweaty hands and placed them around his mouth. From the depths of his chest, he made a sound; the call of a golden jackal, something he’d practiced since childhood. He’d also mastered the art of throwing his voice. The sound flew from his chest and sped across the air, landing at a point far down the corridor. The guard’s head instantly spun that way.
Faisal continued with his perfect mimicking cry, and the cats began to stir. Their ears pricked, their heads turned left and right. Faisal managed to confuse them as well as the guard. They turned their attention to the far end of the corridor, their eyes bulging in fear. Faisal didn’t let up. He threw the sound of the jackal down the corridor, where the guard poked his head toward, the veins on his neck sticking out like rope. Faisal upped the volume and the guard took the bait. He unsheathed his scimitar and began taking steady, cautious strides toward the end of the corridor, his focus fixed on the ground.
Faisal praised Allah for creating stupid people. With a grin, he entered the corridor still squatting low, the guard’s back facing him, the attention of the cats turned toward the opposite end of the corridor. Faisal scampered along the marble floor on tiptoes and hid behind a large ornate pot. He poked his head out of the side and made that sound again, this time throwing it around the corner. The guard’s head flinched toward the adjacent corridor. Faisal made another call and the guard, totally mesmerized by the sound, followed it. He disappeared around the corner, leaving his post unguarded.
Faisal nodded to himself. Good job. Now he could get into that chamber unhindered. But, he had to be quick. He moved out from behind the pot and crept up to the double doors. As he went, the cats turned their attention his way. They hissed at him, their ears pulled back in fear. Faisal kept his gaze fixed on them all; they watched him return, their eyes boring into him. As Faisal ventured deeper into the corridor, the tingling in his spine intensified, creating a buzzing sound in his ears like his head was full of scarab beetles.
Faisal made it to the doors. He listened in. It was silent. He checked both ways before reaching out a trembling hand for the door handle. Even though the temperatures in and around the palace were soaring, the handle was ice cold. He applied a small amount of pressure and the handle clicked downward. He winced, pausing a moment in case the sound had been heard. Silence answered him. He pushed and the door came ajar. Thick darkness spilled out into the corridor, the polar opposite of what should have happened. The intense light of the corridor should have violated the darkness, but this darkness was different. It was powerful, enveloping. And with it brought an amplification of his third eye. Faisal closed his eyes for a moment and steadied himself with a small prayer. On opening them, a cat hissed at him.
Faisal ignored it, his attention focused on the door. He steeled himself and pushed it open. Its hinges let out a small sigh as they swung the door away. And the darkness flooded out. It spilled over Faisal like a black waterfall, its tentacles wrapping around him like spindly fingers, entrapping him, entrancing him, the buzzing and tingling in his third eye ramping up to a crescendo.
He stared into the darkness with frightened eyes, suddenly every bit the eighteen year old he was; an inexperienced youth entering the ancient unknown. He wanted to turn and run, to escape from this palace of darkness and back to the camp set up just outside the excavation site, tell Clement he tried, but couldn’t see it through. It was too much, too soon, the task too big for him. Too gargantuan. This was no place for a boy, it needed a man; a strong, brave man.
The darkness licked at his face and he could hear it mocking him. You don’t have the balls to enter here, boy, it sneered. Go home to your mama.
A sudden rush of anger suffused Faisal; he stood stout and puffed out his chest. “I can’t do that,” he whispered back to the darkness. “My mama is dead.” Yes, he had no mama to run home to because of the beast inside the room he stood before. And that was why he was here. And why he’d destroy the creature no matter what. His lips scrunched up into a tight ball and he took a juddering breath, his emotions now stirred. He dived into that darkness without giving it a second thought. It swallowed him in one suck, and now he was surrounded by evil.
He entered the chamber fully, closing the door behind him. Now in the pitch-black, the hairs all over his body sprung to attention. He shivered. The temperature in the room was ice, like a tomb in the frosty wastelands of the arctic—a frozen land Clement had described to him from one of his many adventures. Faisal stood in the icy darkness, his heart thumping, shivering from the cold as if he had a fever. This was it. No turning back now. He was in the final chamber, and from the intense tingling shooting up and down his spine, he knew he was in the presence of the beast.
He turned and bent down low. He now needed a source of light to guide him through the dark chamber. He pulled the device from the belt around his robes; the one Clement called a ‘flashlight’, a portable device operated by things called batteries. It created light like a small, handheld sun. Some of the exotic and rare equipment Clement had at his disposal was a wonder to behold.
He gripped the handle tight with both hands and with a sure and deliberate swipe of both his thumbs, he flicked the switch. A beam of light shot out of the end of the device, slicing through the thick darkness like a sword. Even though Faisal had seen the device in action on numerous occasions, he still marveled at it. He stared at the beam of light he’d created in awe, his eyes following it to the large circle it painted on the far wall. He moved it across the air and shadows bobbed and danced all around him as if they were alive. He lit up more lavish pots and statues. The windows had been blocked with wood, the sunlight not welcome in this crypt.
Faisal arced the flashlight further across the room. He illuminated a bed to the far left of the chamber. An exotic four poster, designed for a king, its curtains drawn down. Faisal’s heart skipped a beat. He licked his dry lips as he stared at that bed,
knowing that was where the beast lay. And knowing that was where he had to go. He set off, the flashlight guiding him. He moved silently across the room in a squatted down scamper, the flashlight trained near the ground.
On reaching the bed, he made his way along the side before standing upright. The curtain now faced him; from behind it came a reek of evil. Waiting beyond was a well of darkness that exuded sin and cruel malevolence. Faisal’s spine now tingled as if electrified, his head buzzing and pounding like a hive of locusts. He was in an unholy place, an ungodly place, where the word of Allah would never be uttered, not a trace of his compassion to be found. Instead, the chamber stank of cruelty and torture.
With a trembling, sweaty hand, Faisal reached out, and grabbed the curtain. He drew in a deep breath, and slid it across with one swipe, exposing what lay beyond. He rolled his wide eyes down.
Lying asleep on the bed was the beast. Rah. Although it was king-sized, Rah’s bulky frame took up most of the bed, the folds of fat on his belly rippling across the mattress. Strewn on the bed alongside the creature were the remains of a human arm, bone protruding at the elbow, some of the fingers chewed off. Blood was smeared across Rah’s chewed lips. The gluttonous vampire was sleeping off a huge feast.
Faisal gazed down at the monster in revulsion. He released guttural sounds in his sleep; the kind of noise Faisal imagined a pig would make when feeding in its sty. His jaw was slack, exposing twisted fangs like a dog’s incisors, perfect for chewing and tearing flesh from bone. And from the size of the beast, he’d enjoyed more than his share of meat. His long, yellow talons were slightly curled by his side as if ready for battle.
Rah was as ugly as Faisal had always envisaged. Clement had laid eyes on Rah before and told tales of his grotesqueness, but nothing could compare to witnessing the real thing. This was a deformation; an abomination of nature. A thing to be despised and detested. A thing to be vanquished.