“I speak the truth.” He pulled the rapier out of his stomach and allowed it to fall to the floor. Blood ran down onto the carpet but something else caught her eye. A flickering green light burning within the wound. Unlike the undead thralls the flame was smaller and more controlled. It burned brighter than the raging wildfire that fuelled their unholy undeath. The wound sealed itself closed over several seconds — far slower than any vampire Claire had encountered.
“We buried her.” Claire insisted as she coughed up blood and reached out for her rapier. It was too far out of reach for her to grasp but Haures was taking no chance. He glanced at the fallen sword and it flew closer to him. He snapped off the arrow fletching sticking out of his chest and with his left hand pulled it out of his back. With a lick of intense green flame the wound sealed. He walked over to her and knelt down as she gasped for air.
“She didn’t stay dead.”
“You…”
“Not me.” Haures shook his head once again. “I’d never kill Eleanor after all she did for me.”
Claire tried to speak but her words descended into a coughing fit.
“Your mother isn’t dead.” Haures continued as her coughs simmered down. “Because of the actions of one doctor Morana Norwood. I’m sure you’ve heard about her. An unpleasant woman I must admit.”
She looked up at him horrified. “There’s no way…” The words died in her throat.
“You don’t believe that. Haven’t you already seen the fruits of her experiments? Morana embraces vampirism. She’s always looking for opportunities to spread it.” He looked up and tilted his head listening for something in the distance. “Eleanor is alive somewhere. Find her yourself if you don’t believe me.” He stood up and held out his arm to one side and beckoned. The tome he’d been staring at when she entered flew into his outstretched hand and he caught it without looking. He glanced down at her with something approaching pity on his face. “Perhaps your friend Isobel knows where to look.” He turned and walked towards the opposite end of the library.
“Wait…” Claire reached out for him trying to stand up but she was exhausted and bleeding.
He left without saying a word and not long after Claire heard the distinct sounds of footsteps running down the hallway behind her. A woman burst in flanked by three people and glanced across the ransacked library and Claire bleeding on the floor.
“Where is he?” Inquisitor Mia asked.
Her hand shaking Claire pointed in the direction Haures fled to and she and the knight clad in black platemail rushed across the library and out of sight. Razakel and Alba appeared through the door breathing heavily. Razakel’s breath came in heavy rasps as he struggled to catch his breath.
“Curse this ancient body.” His reddened and exhausted face looked down at Claire’s and he shook his head sadly. “We’re too late.”
“I screwed up.” Claire croaked and coughed. Her ribs and back were agony. “He got away.”
“Stay still.” Alba commanded as she knelt beside her. She looked away the second their eyes met and glanced at Razakel before pressing her hand against Claire. White light circled and leapt from her open palm and through Claire’s chest she could feel the warmth spreading through her and numbing her pain.
“You can’t take him alone.” Razakel grasped his knees as the colour returned to his face. Her magic finished Alba stood up and stepped back and Claire said her thanks. Alba dismissed it with a curt nod before searching the room.
“I wasn’t trying to.” Claire conceded as her strength returned. She managed to prop herself up against the bookshelf. “I wanted answers from him.”
Razakel’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t trust him to make a deal. Don’t listen to his offers.”
“I didn’t!” Claire glared back at him offended. “He told me Eleanor is alive.”
“Did he now?” Razakel stared at some point behind her head. “He’ll tell you whatever you want to hear. He’s an expert at getting inside people’s heads Claire.”
She shook her head. “No. I think he was telling the truth. He gains nothing by lying to me. I was at his mercy.”
Alba returned and handed Claire her pendant and rapier. The chain snapped and twisted but the stone itself seemed intact. With Haures long gone the stone felt warmer in her hands. She took it gratefully and eased herself to her feet. “What’s happened out there? Is Valdgeirr around?”
“Valdgeirr is defeated.” Razakel pushed open the library door and pointed towards the window in the hall. The storm outside was subsiding and the clouds lightening. Rain drizzled against the windows and extinguished the last of the fires leaving the central courtyard a smoking ruin. “Lord Strigoi survives thanks to his bodyguards.”
“The cult have retreated and the undead have ceased.” Alba added behind them. She was stroking the barn owl head of her staff idly as she spoke.
Claire limped out across the hall and pressed up against the window. Even with Alba’s healing, her legs and muscles still ached from two solid days of running. As the rainfall decreased a thin mist coated the ground and wisped around the statues and surviving ornaments. “Morana. Did you find her?” Haures’ words burned in the back of her mind. Morana was the reason she’d grown up without a mother. Worse — she’d twisted her into a vampire like herself. The two sorcerers behind her shook their heads.
“We’ve not seen any sign of her.”
The Caelites empowered by the presence of their god swept through the city smiting the remaining undead with righteous fury. In the distance the storm clouds parted as the undead dragon and the Avatar clashed in the skies. Thunderbolts rained down with each blow until the wounded dragon spiralled towards the city its tattered wings failing to keep it aloft. As the creature fell it struggled to right itself and slow its momentum. A white light streaked down behind it like a comet. With an earthshaking crash the creature smashed into the centre of the industrial district on its back snapping the ripped wings in half. Reiner leapt onto a rooftop to get a better vantage point as the celestial comet smashed into the flailing dragon’s chest and green flame erupted out of it as it died. The Caelite captain vaulted over the rooftops towards the dying dragon, his progress slowed by the rain-slick roof tiles and large metal spikes adorning most of the rooftops. All around him the other Caelites finished up their own slaughter to witness the Avatar of Caelus first hand. Reiner dropped down onto street level and slowed to a halt as the dragon thrashed before him. Amelia’s spear jutting out of its torn and ravaged chest as it clawed at her with weakening arms. Each impact met with a wall of solidified air surrounding the Avatar before the dragon’s head lolled back onto the shattered street. Its breathing heavy and irregular. The Avatar ripped the spear out of the dragon and leapt onto the ground beside its head. Rather than stabbing it again the Avatar reached out with a spare hand and caressed the dying dragon. The spectral flame burning inside it flickered and faded as its breath grew shallower and shallower. Reiner drew closer and heard the avatar speaking in the dragon’s language in a low voice. He couldn’t pick out the individual words over the rainfall but the tone was soothing. The Avatar of Caelus finished its rite and poured searing white light into Valdgeirr, extinguishing the spectral flame animating the dragon. Reiner shielded his eyes from the searing light, the afterimage of the incandescent dragon burned into his vision for several minutes. He opened his eyes after what felt like an eternity to see embers fading and burning into nothingness. The ash where the dragon had been swirled on the breeze and ascended upwards, sizzling in the rain.
The Avatar lowered its hand and turned towards the amassed Caelites, some of whom were on their knees and whispering prayers of praise. The inhuman gaze washed over them with burning white eyes judging into their very souls with an uncomfortable intensity. Satisfied the Avatar rose both arms up to its side causing the diaphanous wings of lightning to flicker behind it. With another blinding flash the light left Amelia and shimmered out of her. It condescended into the faintest impression
of a dragon before ascending upwards into the storm clouds blowing them aside with a flash. Amelia swayed on the spot for several seconds before collapsing forwards. As the closest to her Reiner rushed towards her fallen body and cupped her in his arms. She was unconscious and still breathing.
“She’s alive!” He shouted as her honour-guard arrived and checked on her. The clouds above reformed, closing the tear above them and gentle rain washed over them.
“We need to get her back to the temple.” One of the honour guard said amongst themselves. Reiner recognised the voice but couldn’t quite put name to voice as the awe wore off. With great care he handed the unconscious commander to her guard and stepped back feeling the soothing rain upon his face. He and many others around him prayed for her safety into the evening sky.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The days following the undead assault were chaotic. Reconstruction projects sprang up throughout the city and efforts were made to rebuild the watchtowers and reinforce the cities defences. With the city vulnerable malcontents forced the remaining Night Guard to work longer hours to maintain order and keep looting and rioting to a minimum. With Lord Strigoi’s survival confirmed stability began to re-establish itself. Claire’s own wounds had healed thanks to Alba’s magic. Afterwards she’d reunited with Hayley, Adrian, Reiner and Sevaur as the last pockets of undead resistance died down. Though wounded and exhausted they were no worse for wear each bearing their own amusing anecdotes (except for Reiner). Despite their attempts at levity Claire could not dismiss Haures words compounded by the warning Veronica gave her the day before. Isobel was hiding something. She walked through the Night Guard headquarters out of uniform keeping her fresh badge held high for identification. The building itself has survived mostly intact. When the undead converged on the Strigoi mansion they avoided the residential areas leaving few to attack the Night Guard’s home of operations. As she walked down a familiar corridor she hesitated in front of the door marked ‘Isobel Caldwell’. Claire replayed the argument in her head many times debating whether to confront Isobel especially given the circumstances but curiosity won her over. She opened the door and walked into Isobel’s office head held high.
“Rosenfeld I’ve told you about not kn—” Isobel swung around on her chair with a scowl. “Acestes? Don’t go learning habits off Hayley.” Isobel’s eyes were drooping and she seemed more exhausted than ever. Her left arm hung limp in a cast and she had a sore looking cut across her face. Despite this she staggered into work without missing a day. To see her so vulnerable disarmed Claire a little and knocked the wind out of her sails.
“I need to talk to you.”
Isobel’s eyes narrowed and she sighed. Waving Claire towards a chair with her good arm. “Speak.” The repaired pendant pulsed with a cold glow from Isobel’s ambient psychic activity. She glanced down at Claire’s chest sensing the pendant hidden beneath her hunting outfit even though she couldn’t see it. “I’m not a fan of that.”
“It’s saved my life twice already.” Claire pulled it out to show her but Isobel recoiled from it with a disapproving glare.
“Put it away.”
Claire did as she was told and braced herself. “Eleanor is alive isn’t she?”
Isobel maintained a neutral expression and Claire could feel the pendant chill in her hand. She was grateful it blocked out Isobel’s thought skimming abilities at the very least.
“You knew about it didn’t you.” Claire continued keeping her tone level but insistent. “Why didn’t you tell me? You know I came to you looking for answers.”
The retired Inquisitor sat back in her chair with a sigh and rubbed her weary eyes. “Tell you what? That I found circumstantial evidence that she might be alive? That I hadn’t the time nor manpower to confirm how genuine it is?” Isobel shook her head. “You want me to get your hopes up do you? Fill your head full of hope and tell you your deepest desires are true?”
“I just wanted the truth.” Claire maintained a firm gaze. “I wanted to know what happened and why. I didn’t come for platitudes to cheer me up.”
“Good. I’m an—” She sighed. “Was an Inquisitor. We’re not known for flights of fantasy. I don’t act unless I know I’m certain.”
They exchanged an awkward silence for several moments.
“What evidence was it?” Claire attempted to take a different track. Already she felt heartless and self-centred. It was amazing the power a wrinkled face glaring at you could have.
“I received an anonymous letter a few days before you arrived. Requesting my assistance investigating disturbances to the north. It was signed with a code name we once used together and buried within the letter were phrases and references to some of our previous operations. References only Eleanor could know.” Isobel pursed her lips and scowled at some point in the distance. “Or someone who has done very thorough research. Normally I’d dismiss any letter signed by an ‘old friend’ as hogwash. Inquisitors do not have friends. But it seemed genuine…”
Claire stared at the desk for a while as her mind raced.
“You mustn’t let the past consume you Claire. It never ends well.”
“I understand that. I do.” She couldn’t find the words to express how she felt. How best to explain it wasn’t just an emotional need or childlike desire. She’d grown up and accepted it. There’d been no other way but now people kept dangling hope in front of her. Rekindling old worries and desires. Instead she shook her head and stared at Isobel. “Do you believe she’s alive? Haures claims she’s… become a vampire.”
“I don’t know Claire. I don’t.” Isobel shrugged her shoulders and winced as her injured arm ached. “It’s not impossible. It would explain why she’s been in hiding for two decades.”
“It does?”
“Don’t be obtuse girl. Vampires aren’t exactly loved around here. It’d take time to overcome the hunger. The compulsion to become something less than human. Even if she is alive she might be nothing more than a feral vampire. Or worse.”
Claire nodded. It was an unpleasant fact to face but the truth often was. “Possible. If she sent that letter that might prove she’s still sapient.” Claire hesitated to mention Veronica. On the one hand she was almost certain Isobel must know about Veronica’s vampirism — she was too observant and read minds whenever possible. On the other hand if Isobel didn’t know, Claire didn’t want to endanger someone who had saved her life more than once. Claire gripped the pendant around her neck tight feeling its icy touch and hoped it was still shielding her mind. “I’ll find out. I have to know.”
Isobel sighed and shook her head. “That’s up to you.” She stared towards Claire without focus. The old woman seemed even more exhausted than usual.
“Aren’t you going to look for her? She was your friend.”
Isobel bit her lip and shrugged. “I might. But I’m tired Claire. I’m tired of all of this.”
“What do you mean?” Claire asked hesitantly. Isobel’s tone of voice did little to reassure her.
“Age and injury have robbed me of all I hold dear. I spend more time outside my own body than in it these days. It’s a prison. A shell.” Her watery eyes met Claire's; her expression lacked the determination and drive it always had. “I’m little more than a ghost these days.”
Claire didn’t know what to say. It was difficult to figure out how old Isobel was but she reasoned at least sixty years. She never looked rested, always at the edge of exhaustion. Always running on empty. She saw the same in Razakel and his battle with age. Isobel’s prosthetic and injuries made it harder for her than she would ever admit. Claire wondered how freeing it must feel to project yourself out of your body. How liberating it must be. To go and see whatever you wanted. The limitations and resentment at returning to your mortal body, broken by age. The pain, the exhaustion. How easy it must be to want to let go and remain free of your body forever. The thought chilled her more than the pendant around her neck ever had. “You can’t give up.” She blurted out. It was pat
hetic and meagre but it was all she could think to say.
“Why not?”
“We need you.” Claire shrugged in desperation. Her words were failing her once again. “I need you. You might be a cantankerous grump but I like that.” Isobel smiled briefly for the first time in days. “I know you feel lost and unimportant. Like your glory days are behind you but you’re still valuable. You still have worth. People care. I care. Hayley cares.”
Isobel stared at Claire for a while before chuckling to herself. “You’ve been reading those self-help books that are going around.”
“No. I mean it.” Claire gripped the back of her neck and undid her pendant chain. “Read my mind if you must.”
Isobel waved her away. “I believe you.”
“Good.” She refastened the pendant and stood up almost knocking the chair over behind her as she headed towards the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To get answers.” Claire looked back over her shoulder at the still seated Isobel. “I know where to look.”
Haures and the surviving cultists fled south from Kriegsfeld with the Inquisition hot on their heels. Inquisitor Mia Pietas and her retinue cornered them within the town of Halmos. A bloody battle ensued resulting in the loss of three support specialists and their latest initiate. Alba Salus circled around Haures keeping out of his line of sight; this served a twofold purpose — psychic powers are more effective when the user has eye contact and two, she hated being the centre of attention. Razakel kept him secured with magic wards and inscriptions whilst Inquisitor Pietas and Aether Caeneus finished their sweep of the rundown building. Alba watched the rogue Inquisitor intently and clutched the ice-cold anti-psychic ward she’d been issued. Haures’ powers were nullified for now and he was far outclassed in magic by both Razakel and herself. The traitor stood motionless and complied with their demands. Alone and with his power restricted they’d knocked a lot of wind out of his sails. They’d found him more through luck than anything, Alba recognised a faint and unique magical signature surrounding him as he escaped Kriegsfeld. It was an unusual and complicated energy signature she’d never encountered before but up close and personal she realised where it came from. Though the young hunter Claire hadn’t known it her sword was infused with the arcane and infuriatingly complex magics of the Caelite order. When she’d stabbed Haures the blade electrocuted him and marked him with a unique magical signature that was designed to leave a trail they could follow. When Alba detected the signature spiking from within a run-down district of Halmos beside the cemetery, that had been all the proof they’d needed.
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