“Keep your fangs in your retracted and we’ll be just fine,” warned Samuel, as he accepted Xander’s help and was lifted to his feet.
“That… coming from the man who almost killed me,” mumbled Xander, his lips still charred.
Their victory was short-lived, as the rest of the pack started howling in the distance. The werewolves’ shrill cry pierced through the night sky, signaling that they had found their prey and would soon descend upon them.
“I hope you’re ready for this,” said Samuel, looking to his side as the two of them took defensive positions.
Xander laughed heartedly, now almost completely healed, as he looked back at Samuel, and said, “…Says the vampire hunter facing down a pack of werewolves. Yeah, I’m ready for this.”
Chapter Three
A shadowy figure emerged from a dimly lit passageway, shrouded in a dark hooded robe; the only identifiable part of the man was his icy blue eyes and long wiry beard.
Walking into a large chamber, the man passed by dozens of other individuals all clad in the same black robes. They were aligned in a semi-circle, all residing around a golden throne. The man passed by everyone, and took his place on the throne. He slouched, tired from years of tireless vigilance, as he peered out across the room. That’s when he noticed that one of the seats was empty.
“Elders… Councilors… I see that one of us is missing from the proceedings. Does anyone know where Councilor Gemeti is?” asked the man, his hoarse Russian accent booming across the room.
“Lord Korolev, Amata Gemeti hasn’t been to the castle in months now,” replied one of the councilors.
“She’s off plotting her little schemes!” shouted another one of the councilors. “She’s nothing but a rat—.”
“My lord, I have reports that she’s even sent her first prime, Simeon Agathon, to the summoner’s last known location,” said a third councilor. “My sources are completely reliable—.”
“That’s what we get for allowing a 300 year old vampire Elder status among our people,” commented the first councilor to voice his concerns, his snide comments resonating with the other vampires. “She’s too young, and the prestige has gone straight to her head!”
“Would you like to be the one to tell her that?” another councilor asked, all of the Elder vampires seemingly wanting in on the discussion. “We’ve all seen what she can do. There isn’t a single one of us who could stop her on our own, regardless of her age.”
“Enough!” shouted Lord Korolev, raising his hands to quiet the crowd. They all hushed instantly, both respecting and fearing the eldest vampire in existence. “Do not tell me things I already know!”
“We have not convened to discuss the matters of one rouge councilor!” boomed Lord Korolev, continuing his speech to the crowd. “I have called you all here for a much more serious matter. You’ve all heard the rumors, that the last summoner has been found. I am not going to hide behind the rhetoric any longer. She exists… and is living in south east of the United States of America.”
The crowd began to murmur their discontent between one another, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on their cold chests.
“Be calm!” bellowed Lord Korolev, retaking control of his councilor chambers. “I have considered our actions for many days now, and refused to speak on the matter until I have made my decision. Make no mistake; this council will not repeat the mistakes of the past. The summoner shall not be harmed.”
The reserved councilors had heard enough. Many stood and shouted out in discontent. Some even spat and spewed obscenities. Clearly, this was not a popular choice among Lord Korolev’s followers.
“The summoner can destroy us all at any moment… and you suggest we let her walk away?” asked one of the councilors, throwing his hands in the air. “This is preposterous!”
“Silence!” shouted Lord Korolev, his hand grabbing hold of his hood as he tossed it behind him. Barring his monstrous fangs, he stared them all down with his frosty eyes. They cut sharply through the tension, none of the other councilors willing to test his limits.
As Lord Korolev began to speak to the bewildered councilors, a large commotion rang out behind the main entrance to the council chambers. Alarmed, the councilors all turned their heads in unison towards the door, their superhuman ears picking up what their eyes could not.
The large mahogany doors flew open, crashing against the stone walls as the sounds of battle engulfed the large room.
Amata Gemeti emerged from the entrance, brandishing a sword in each hand; she was armed to the teeth and ready for war. The blood splattered on her face suggested that she had already, in fact, seen much war inside the vampire’s holiest of locations.
“What is the meaning of this?” asked Lord Korolev, rising for Amata’s insolence. “Speak now, before you lose your head for this treachery!”
“Oh, dear Korolev,” said Amata, grinning from ear to ear. “I believe we have a difference of opinion. You see, I figured you would fold on the matter of the summoner. I may not have been around during the first culling, but had I been, we would not be having this problem. Call this an insurrection… or rebellion. It matters not what you choose to call it. The end result is that I am going to lead our kind into the promise land.”
Lord Korolev laughed heartedly, his gruff chuckle echoing through the chamber. He looked back at the attempting usurper, and asked, “And how do you plan to accomplish this?”
“My esteemed colleague,” began Amata, running her tongue across her razor-sharp fangs. “I plan to cut off all of your heads… with a large axe… one by one.”
“You…,” growled Lord Korolev, saliva spewing as he frothed at the mouth. “And with what army?”
“My newborn army, to be precise,” replied Amata, raising her swords above her head as a swarm of sickly looking vampires rushed into the council chambers. They were the forgotten; the drug users and the homeless, the perfect army for Amata’s needs.
Their eyes were bloodshot, overindulging on their victims as they tore through the chamber. The Elders were the most powerful vampires in existence, but even they were no match for the sheer numbers Amata had amassed.
The councilors fought back valiantly, but for every newborn they put down, another five would take its place. Sharp claws and fangs descended upon them from every angle as the younger vampires tore through them, gorging themselves on sacred blood.
Amata smiled, as she watched the chaos unfold around her. She looked back towards the hallway as the ground started to shake. Slowly, a dark silhouette emerged from the shadows. A giant of a man, his mere presence made the ground behind him tremble in his might.
“Mr. McAlister, what took you so long?” Amata asked.
“The royal guard… took longer than I had anticipated,” replied the lumbering vampire, carrying a large war axe on his shoulders.
The man stood at seven feet tall and his broad shoulders enveloped the mighty axe he was carrying. With long, scraggly hair and unkempt beard he was a rough looking man, but his chiseled cheekbones and piercing green eyes gave him rugged good looks that Amata liked to have around.
“Go fetch me their heads, William,” ordered Amata, pointing towards the carnage in front of them. “And be quick about it, will you? We’ve got a summoner to find.”
“Yes, my lady,” replied William, his large hands gripping the axe tightly as he hoisted it off his shoulders in preparation for battle. “…As you command.”
Chapter Four
Xander and Samuel stood together, their backs pressed up against one another while the stared down their attackers. The rest of the pack had arrived, the werewolves’ growls reverberating through them.
A dozen werewolf’s had descended upon them, stalking their prey as they ran circles around Xander and Samuel, trying to confuse and disorient them.
“I hope you’ve got another blade under that coat,” said Xander, looking over his shoulder.
“I’m a vampire hunter,” replied Samuel,
his hand slowly reaching into the coat. “Of course I’ve got a spare sword.”
Samuel drew a short sword and handed it to Xander. Together, they raised their weapons towards the wolves, and waited for the chance to strike.
The first werewolf to charge them darted out from the rest of the pack and headed straight towards Xander. He lunged high in the air, his jagged teeth trying to find Xander’s throat.
Xander ducked, and drove his sword directly above him. Slicing through the werewolf as it passed by in the air, Xander rose to his feet. The blade pushed in deeper as it emerged from the back of the wolf, now shrieking in pain.
Another used the commotion to launch his own attack. Approaching from the side, the werewolf tried to take Samuel’s legs out from underneath him, but a well-timed boot stunned the wolf. Dazed and confused, the beast never saw the end coming as Samuel hammered him in the spine with the blunt end of his sword. A horrifying snap could be heard through the countryside as the wolf dropped to the ground, his back shattering in half.
“We might actually pull this off!” grinned Samuel, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I could do this all night—.”
“You’ve spoken too soon,” barked Xander, his lip curling as several werewolves dashed towards them. “Here they come!”
Meanwhile, inside the house there was a completely different battle going on. A frantic Emily was trying to wake her brother, still unconscious from his barroom brawl.
“Wake up… you have to wake up!” pleaded Emily, shaking her unconscious brother violently.
She clung to her shirt, which was covered in blood, and cried. The tears streamed down her face as she desperately tried to continue to wake her brother, Steven.
“C’mon, we’ll be safe inside,” said Tyler, placing his hand on Emily’s shoulder. “I thought they couldn’t enter anyone’s home without invitation?”
“That’s for vampires, Tyler!” shouted Emily, wiping the tears from her cheek.
“Are you serious?” Tyler asked. “…Who makes up this shit?”
She placed a quivering hand on her knee, picked herself up and headed cautiously towards the front bay window. Noticing something on the window sill, she bent down and wrapped her hands around a large wooden stake. Samuel must have left it in the house, she thought, running her fingers down the smooth pine.
Suddenly, the sound of a window smashing sent chills down Emily’s spine. Turning her head to the back of the house, she hesitantly shifted towards the kitchen.
“Don’t do it, Emily!” yelled Tyler, looking back at her from the living room. “Come back here!”
It didn’t matter where Emily went, she knew that if one of those things had gotten inside there wasn’t anywhere they could run.
A ravenous werewolf had busted through the window beside the back door. With blood dripping from his mouth, he tracked Emily across the kitchen with ill intent in his eyes.
Emily gripped the stake firmly in her hand and braced for the charging wolf’s attack. Her hands trembled and her heart raced a mile a minute; she had faced down ghouls and vampires, but she had never been more scared in her entire life.
The snarling hound dashed towards her, his powerful claws tearing up the floor as he quickly approached. He lifted off with his hind legs and went for the throat.
The stake was knocked out of Emily’s hand as she fell to the floor, her hands wrapped around the jaws of the beast. It slid across the tiled floor, far out of Emily’s reach as she battled for her life.
The werewolf growled ferociously as he dug his sharp claws into the meat of her thigh. The blood poured out of Emily’s leg, but still, she refused to flinch. The slightest weakness and the werewolf would be having her for supper; his deadly canines now only inches from her throat.
“Take this, you filthy beast!” shouted Tyler, standing over the wolf with the wooden stake in his hand.
He drove the stake into the back of the vicious animal. It may not have been a vampire, but the stake tore through the spine of the werewolf, sending him to the floor in screeching pain.
The werewolf bled out in agony, panting and wheezing as he looked back up at Tyler with heartrending eyes, completely mystified as to how he was vanquished by such a normal man.
Chapter Five
The blood streamed down Lord Korolev’s brow, dripping on his golden throne and then splattering on the cobblestone floor. He struggled to open his left eye, the other completely swollen shut from aggravated trauma to the head. Defiant, he remained, for a vampire king never shows any signs of weakness.
“You will not find what you seek,” said Lord Korolev. “The usurper shall never have my throne.”
A resounding snort was followed by a slow laughter, his gravelly voice filling the room, capturing the attention of the feeding youngling vampires, on their hands and knees and they devoured the rapidly fading councilors.
Crooking their heads, the newborn vampires all stared intently at the Elder vampire, bleeding out on this fallen throne. They licked their chops, hoping to get their chance to feed on the oldest blood in vampire existence.
“What are you laughing at, old man?” asked Amata, drawing her blade as she approached the throne. “Give me one good reason not to end your life, right here and now.”
“Do you really think you’re the first vampire to make claim on my throne?” Lord Korolev asked. “In over 5,000 years, there have been countless attempts on my life. Do you know how each of them ended? They ended with me staring into their cold and helpless eyes as I tore out their hearts and fed in front of them! You are not different, young girl, no matter what gifts that may have been bestowed upon you.”
“You’re not making a very good case for yourself, Korolev, if you wish to live,” Amata said. “I do not need your consent to claim the throne.”
“No, you do not,” Lord Korolev replied. “However, unless you want 10,000 vampires out for your blood that is precisely what you need.”
Rage consumed Amata and she found herself pushing the blade deeper, piercing the skin of Lord Korolev, the silver burning ferociously as it crept closer to his jugular.
“When I bring them the summoner’s head they will fall in line!” Amata barked. “I have amassed more than just this newborn army; werewolves, nymphs, trolls, hunters and witches have all heeded my call. You’ve given us no other choice, therefore, you must be left in the dust; a fallen leader from a forgotten time. If we allow the summoner to live we could all lose everything… and if it’s going to be a choice between life and death, I’ll choose life every time.”
“Y—your life ended a long time ago,” Lord Korolev stuttered. “What remains now is just a scared little girl, running from life rather than making the best use of her second chance.”
Lord Korolev started to choke, foaming at the mouth with blood clogging up his throat. Still, he smiled, with boldness in his heart. Looking back at Amata, he mumbled, “The first culling… was a mistake. It was a result of misguided intentions… and failed diplomacy. If the summoners truly wished to take our powers back… they could have taken it back at any moment.”
Amata howled in frustration, pulling the blade back from his throat. She placed her foot on the chest of Lord Korolev, her stiletto digging in deeply as she thrust with all her might. The heavy golden throne swung backwards, crashing against the ground in a thunderous collision. Cracking his head on the back of the throne, Lord Korolev’s eyes rolled back in his head, slowly drifting in and out of consciousness.
Everything was getting dark now, as the blood poured into the crevasses of his eyes. Metal scraping across the stone floor was all he could hear, the sound of death’s slow and inevitable approach.
“You’ve forced my hand in the matter,” said Amata, standing over the fallen Lord Korolev. “Take solace in the fact that our people will live on, Korolev, even if you do not; may the devil have mercy on your soul. You have your orders, William.”
“By your command, Lady Gemeti,” replied William, liftin
g his menacing axe high in the air. “It shall be done.”
William’s mighty war axe came slicing down, severing Lord Korolev’s head from his body. The massive vampire’s strength was overwhelming as his vicious blow sent the Elder’s head soaring across the room.
Amata licked her lips, a smile breaking out across her face as she seized control of the Council of Elders; finally she had reached the pinnacle of her power. She turned to face her younglings, sucking the now deceased councilors dry. She motioned for their attention, and said, “Now, you may feast.”
The newborns rushed towards the throne, like wolves to a wounded sheep. Their sharp fangs tore into body of Lord Korolev, gorging themselves stupid on the most powerful vampire in history.
Chapter Six
Xander let his grip loosen, his sword dropping to the blood soaked ground as he curled his lip and growled. He had survived the onslaught and now only two of the hellish hounds remained. He looked over towards Samuel, who had taken a few blows, but continued his vigilant resistance with well used sword in hand.
The alpha werewolf was a mighty beast, easily twice the size of his companion. Warm air puffed from his snout, heating up the cool night breeze; smoking in the wind as he stared down his watchful prey.
He let out a terrifying howl, causing the very ground below to tremor; the vibrations shaking Xander and Samuel to their very core. Motioning to his last pack mate, the alpha sent the younger wolf towards the house.
“You must get to Emily!” shouted Xander, turning towards Samuel. “If she dies, so do you!”
Samuel didn’t care for Xander’s tone, and wouldn’t forget that he was moments away from finishing Xander off before the wolves came; but the vampire was right, he took an oath to protect those that couldn’t protect themselves. With regret in his eyes, he left the battle and hurried after the werewolf.
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