Sally smirked. “Offhand, I’d say you’re due for an upgrade.”
“Real funny. Christy, do you have a cell phone with you?”
“It’s in the other room.”
“Could you go get it?”
“Why?”
“Hold that thought and I’ll tell you.” I extended my claws and began to tear apart the melted device, peeling away first plastic and then the metal inside. “Come on...yes!” I was in luck. Though the outside of the phone was toast, the SD card inside appeared to be intact.
Christy, in the meantime, had come back holding an intact phone in her hands. She handed it over to me and I was happy to see it was an upgradable model. I pried the back off and installed the card. “Fingers crossed,” I muttered, turning on the photo app.
“For what?”
“For this.” I handed her the device, the series of photos from the Jahabich cave queued up on it. “This is where I saw it.”
Christy stared at it for a few moments, casually flipping through the photos at first, but then slowing down as she began to study them.
“The witch who came with us - her name was Miranda. She said she thought there might have been a spell written on the wall, but she hadn’t studied your history enough to know what it was. So I was hoping maybe you’d have a...”
“Is this a joke?” Christy asked, wide-eyed.
I glanced at Sally, but her face shown only confusion - the memory of our encounter down below obviously amongst those buried in her head like the Ark of the Covenant in the fucking well of souls.
“No,”
Christy stepped to the bedroom door and shut it, clicking the lock.
I was about to ask her what she was doing. Don’t get me wrong; I normally wouldn’t mind being locked in a bedroom with two attractive chicks, but one was mind-fucked and the other heavily pregnant. I’m sure some dudes would have been all over that fetish, but it wasn’t one of mine.
I started to joke as such, but it died in my throat when she turned back around - an angry red glow erupting from her.
* * *
My first thought was to step in front of Sally. It wasn’t so much to protect her as it was to keep things from escalating out of hand. Memories or not, she wasn’t the type to take a threat lightly. Sure enough, a glance back confirmed her eyes had turned black.
“Where did you get this?” Christy snapped.
“Okay, can we all calm down for a moment?”
“I said, where did you get this?” Energy crackled around her, and red fire filled her eyes.
What the fuck? What the hell had set her off so? Pointing a finger at Sally, I said, “Stay!”
“You tell me where...”
“Okay, I heard you the first time,” I snapped at Christy, hoping I wasn’t about to be disintegrated. “We found it deep underground. It was in this big cave full of those fucking rock monsters. I think it was their home, or maybe their prison.”
“That can’t be.”
“I think it was. There was this weird cave leading to it - looked like it had been melted open and...”
“No.” The red glow began to dissipate and she slumped against the door, suddenly looking very tired. “The White Mother.”
“Yeah. You said that earlier. It’s what made me remember. Those goddamned weirdos had a statue that was...”
I trailed off as Christy reached into the top of her maternity blouse. She pulled out a pendent of sorts, hung by a chain around her neck. I stepped closer to take a look.
“What’s going on?”
“Not now, Sally.” I took in the shape. The pure white color, the outstretched arms, and the semblance of a dress...it was the same figure the statue had depicted - the same thing on the walls of the cave. “What the fuck?”
“It’s the White Mother,” Christy replied softly.
“Who...”
“One of the first of us...the best of us. She lived thousands of years ago. Legend says she was the first of the Magi to truly harness magic in ways other than hunting or waging war. She was the first to understand how it worked and how to use it to be in harmony with nature. Everything we hold dear is descended from her teachings. She is revered as a scholar, the first Mentor, the mother of kindness and knowledge.”
“Okay...” I replied, not really understanding.
“Don’t you get it?” she asked, tears now fully streaming down her face. “This thing...this abomination?” She threw the phone across the room where it hit the wall and shattered into pieces.
I slowly stepped toward her, mindful that she was a witch with enough power to blow a bowling-ball-sized hole through me. Carefully, I knelt by her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. “What is it?”
“The pictograph,” she sobbed. “It says that she created those things. She called them forth from nothing, created life where there was none.”
“So she...”
“It’s a heresy! A crime against nature. The symbols tell of how she stole the souls of other living creatures and infused them into these...freaks!”
Whoa. That sure as shit sounded like a match with what we saw down below - creatures reborn as Jahabich soldiers.
“It’s all a lie,” she muttered, putting her face into her hands.
“So what?” Sally asked from where she sat. “So a long-dead witch fucked with nature. It doesn’t mean...”
“Yes, it does!” Christy snapped, but this time when she looked up, I saw not anger or sorrow in her eyes, but fear. “Don’t you understand? The matriarch of my people created those things. As far as both sides of this war are concerned, that will mean the Magi are responsible for them.”
“That’s stupid, they won’t...”
Her eyes grew ever wider as she spoke. “We’ve lived for thousands of years under a guise of neutrality, but it’s all been a lie. Those things not only attacked the vampire First Coven, they somehow allied themselves with that monster in Boston.”
“Vehron?”
“The one and the same. That makes us an enemy of your people. That makes us an enemy to everyone.”
“Nobody is going to believe that.”
“You don’t know how these things work, Bill. They snowball, spiral out of control. The souls corrupted by these things will want vengeance. They’ll find a way. Soon the world will know of our part in this.”
“I doubt that,” Sally said casually. “Once we get finished with this Vehron asshole...well, dead vamps tell no tales.”
“You just don’t get it, do you? The Icon...she’s coming with us. It’s not just her destiny to face the Freewill. She’s destined to destroy my kind as well.” She put her hands protectively around her stomach.
“Sheila wouldn’t...”
“She doesn’t want to, but she will. She’ll find out and it will turn her against us. She’ll realize that if one of us can do this - can set forth these abominations against the world - then others can too. I don’t know how it will happen, but it will happen. It’s fate. I’m fated to die at her hand and so is...so is my baby.”
She tried to say more, but the rest was lost to her sobs. I wanted to comfort her, but it wasn’t exactly my strong suit. What was there to say? “There, there, I’m sure Sheila won’t chop you to pieces with her flaming white sword”?
“Fuck fate.”
“Huh?” I turned around.
Sally stood up and stepped forward. “You heard me. I don’t remember either of you for shit, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know myself.”
She knelt down on one knee and gently took hold of Christy’s hands. Whoa. It was...almost human of her.
Christy looked up, her eyes shining with tears as Sally spoke. “You don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to give up. I’ve faced disappointment, betrayal, violence, all of it. More than once, I’ve resigned myself to fate - to be a failure in my father’s eyes, to be little more than a whore, to be a slave to Night Razor...”
On that last one, her eyes flashed black and her fangs desc
ended. She gritted her teeth and I saw a thin trickle of blood run down the side of her lips. Obviously, the memory of Jeff was a potent one. She opened her mouth, perhaps to say more, but then a violent tremor shook her.
Christy reached out, but I was faster - using my vampire reflexes to reach Sally’s side and steady her. After a moment, the spasm subsided.
She blinked a few times, shook her head, and looked up at me. “You were there, weren’t you?”
“What?”
“At Jeff’s death.”
“You remember?”
“Vaguely...almost.” I was about to say more, but she held up a hand. “Doesn’t matter.”
“The hell it doesn’t.”
“You’re wrong,” she said before turning back to Christy. “What matters is that each and every time, I refused to accept my fate. I told destiny to go fuck itself, that I’d make my own. If I can do it, you can too.”
Christy and Sally stared hard at each other for several seconds. Finally, Christy broke contact to glance up at me, her eyes asking a question.
“Don’t look at me,” I said. “I’ve been telling the powers that be to go take a flying leap since I got bitten.”
“So what do you say?” Sally stood up and offered a hand.
Christy looked at it for a moment, then grabbed hold as my partner pulled her up to her feet. “I’ve always been taught to respect destiny - that accepting it was the path to true happiness. But if what I thought I knew about the White Mother is false, then maybe that is too.”
“You never know.”
“But if we’re wrong...”
I held up a hand. “We’re going to be walking into a lion’s den. You won’t be able to throw a rock without hitting an enemy. If we’re wrong, we’re all dead anyway.”
“You’re not doing a very good job of making me feel better.”
“But if we’re right,” I continued, “then who knows what awaits us in the end? I think we need to find out together. What do you say?”
Christy hesitated for a moment, but then she nodded, forcing a smile.
“I’m in. What the hell?” Sally said. “Beats the fuck out of being Alex’s slave or, even worse, Colin’s.”
“You remember that asshole too?”
“Unfortunately.”
I laughed at that and soon both of them joined in.
Fate could indeed go fuck itself.
I had no idea what the near future held, who would live or die, or even who truly held the keys to my heart, but I finally realized that maybe I didn’t need to.
I’d just been witness to a minor miracle - a child amongst our kind shaking off a small part of the compulsion laid down by the most powerful vampire in the world. If she could do that, then couldn’t we all do the same to the strings of fate guiding us? It was worth a shot.
Together, my friends and I would stride forward and make our own destiny.
The future was ours for the taking, and we’d do our damnedest to make it one worth remembering.
THE END
Bill Ryder will return in:
The Wicked Dead (The Tome of Bill, part 7)
Can’t wait for more Bill? Follow his ongoing misadventures on Facebook at
www.facebook.com/BilltheVampire
Author’s Note
Whoever penned the phrase no rest for the wicked was right on the money. I find myself sitting here, mere weeks before the release of this book, wondering where the time has gone. It seems like just yesterday I’d released book five and was settling down to relax. Fast forward about ten minutes later and I was back at my computer, unable to get Bill Ryder or his friends out of my head. This is one of those stories that just poured out, almost as if I’d cracked open my skull and rammed a spigot into the opening - albeit slightly less painful.
Of course there’s a vast difference between an inspired first draft and the final story you see before you. My first drafts have a roughness akin to chopping down a tree, running a piece of sandpaper across its length, and declaring it fine furniture. The actual art of polishing is what takes time and patience - working closely with my wonderful team of contributors. If you missed them, be sure to go back to the beginning of this book where they’re all listed. Each of them deserves a round of applause for the effort - not to mention their patience in dealing with me. It is my sincerest hope that it was all well worth the wait.
I know it was for me. Though this book delves into dark places for our hero at times, I never once felt it. I had a grand time following Bill on his adventures and an even better time when it became apparent that nearly all of his “friends” would be making an appearance in this one. Some of these characters - I’m looking at you, Gansetseg - are such that I’ll often get yelled at because I’ll be typing away, fully immersed in their character, not realizing I’m cackling with glee like a madman.
I can only hope some of that joy has translated to the pages you have just read and, subsequently, to you, dear reader. If so, then this journey has been well worth the effort.
Until next time...
Rick G.
About the Author
Rick Gualtieri lives alone in central New Jersey with only his wife, three kids, and countless pets to both keep him company and constantly plot against him. When he’s not busy monkey-clicking words, he can typically be found jealously guarding his collection of vintage Transformers from all who would seek to defile them.
Defilers beware!
Rick Gualtieri is the author of:
Bill the Vampire (The Tome of Bill, Part 1)
Scary Dead Things (The Tome of Bill, Part 2)
The Mourning Woods (The Tome of Bill, Part 3)
Holier Than Thou (The Tome of Bill, part 4)
Sunset Strip: A Tale From The Tome Of Bill
Goddamned Freaky Monsters (The Tome of Bill, part 5)
Half A Prayer (The Tome of Bill, part 6)
The Tome of Bill Compendium: Volume One
Bigfoot Hunters
The Poptart Manifesto
Necromantic
Meeting Misty
To contact Rick (with either undying praise or rude comments) please visit:
Rick’s Website:
www.rickgualtieri.com
Facebook Page:
www.facebook.com/RickGualtieriAuthor
Twitter:
www.twitter.com/RickGualtieri
Bonus Chapter
The Wicked Dead
“Anything?”
“Yeah,” Sally replied, holding up her glass. “This needs more vodka.”
“I’m not talking about the drink.”
“Sorry. The only thing I can concentrate on right now is what a shitty bartender you make.”
Grumbling numerous unkind words, I grabbed the glass out of her hand and stormed out of the room - feeling her smirk following me all the while. As much as her memories might still be scrambled, deep down she was still Sally. That meant she’d quickly made a game out of her sessions with Christy, settling into a routine that was all about her. Christy would do the magical equivalent of entering my partner’s head and rearranging the furniture, often exhausting herself in the process. Afterward, Sally would be the one demanding to be pampered for her suffering - refusing to cooperate until she was suitably mollified.
And yet for some reason I actually wanted her memories back. Hell, I was willing to do whatever it took to restore her.
I must have rocks in my head.
Slamming the door shut behind me, I let out a weary sigh. No, it wasn’t rocks. There was something a lot heavier weighing me down. Some days I almost envied the older vampires. To them power and station were everything. Pesky crap like emotions were too petty a thing for them to worry about. I dare say a callous Vulcan-like attitude sure as shit sounded tempting lately. It would have made things a whole lot easier as I fumbled through the days - trying desperately to sort out my feelings for the women in my life.
I walked over to the kitchen nook, internally amazed at h
ow life could sometimes hand you everything you ever wanted while still managing to flip you the finger.
Seriously, if you had told me even a few months ago that I was going to live in the same building as Sheila, the girl I’d been pining after for years, I’d have done cartwheels up and down the halls. That was shit straight out of my best fantasies. Sure, it was out of necessity as we prepped for battle - one that we had no guarantee of walking away from alive, but those were just the pesky details.
Allowing myself to have feelings for Sally had muddied those waters, though. A small part of me kept screaming that the whole thing made no fucking sense. Sure, physically, Sally was a dream girl for most heterosexual males, but her attitude was enough to drive any sane person to drink. She was an alpha dog to the extreme. In many ways the concept of just working with her was intimidating - much less doing anything of a more intimate nature.
In short, she was a threat to the manhood of any red-meat eating, tough-guy male - much less me - smart enough to give her biting wit razor sharp teeth and tough enough to let her fists do the talking if she needed to. Hell, she was out of my league on so many levels that I shouldn’t have even been allowed to watch her play. All in all, there should have been enough red flags there to make me run off screaming. Yet, all of it had the opposite effect on me. I greatly respected her. She was strong even when she didn’t have any reason to be and she’d stuck by my side during moments when I wouldn’t have blamed anyone for running for the hills.
My thoughts trailed off as I looked through the cabinets in the little kitchen nook. Where was that bottle of vodka? More importantly, why was I putting even a modicum of effort into finding it? All so I could top off a concoction of orange juice and blood in the hopes that Sally would claim remembrance of something - anything that would give me hope?
Of course I was.
For the sake of our friendship alone I’d have done that and far more if it meant she remembered even a second of our past.
“Getting awfully dry in here!” her voice carried from the room.
The Tome of Bill (Book 6): Half A Prayer Page 41