by Peter Dawes
“I will give you several,” Robin countered, collected despite the threat I posed, It did not stop his fangs from lowering to full extension anyway. “The least of which includes there is a room full of resurrected vampires and a dark magician bearing more power than any one creature should ever hold.” I pushed against his chest and he swallowed hard, his gaze never wavering. “Your witch is alive and is about to be executed on that altar where you were bled.”
“You lie to save your skin.”
“Trust me for now. Hate me later if you must.” Shoving me away, he sidestepped and reached around his waist to free my sword from his person. Robin held it out to me, his fangs slipping back into place. “I will only hope we make it out of this alive so I might better explain myself.”
My gaze shifted quickly to the sword. Taking hold of it, I strapped it around my waist before making eye contact with my brother again. While my look read of skepticism, his read of certainty, a single nod providing an answer to the unspoken inquiry.
For as much as I wished to believe him, this was too important to leave to chance. I opened my mind and reached into his, rooting through more than his surface level thoughts as I probed for answers. Robin winced against my telepathic assault, but I felt him purposely keep his defenses low. That became my first bit of reassurance.
The second came in the form of Valeria’s voice, though it was not lost on me that the words came from a conversation Robin must have had with her prior to stabbing me in the back. “I give you my word, the witch’s death will be a ruse. When Flynn joins the fold, she is all yours.” Conflicted emotions were attached to that memory – complicated and confusing – leaving me to not fully trust I understood his motivations. Despite that, though, I could not argue with the end result and withdrew my mind from his.
Yes, she was alive. And things were indeed as dire as he had made them out to being.
I had no time left to tarry. Swallowing hard, I shored myself up, taking a few tentative steps forward and pausing when the world spun dizzy again. My jaw clenched against the lingering embers of pain, my next steps more confident, albeit taken at a measured pace. One by one, they led me out the open door of the cell and into the corridor I had seen so many times in my dreams. My watcher yet lived. This is what I had fought for, I told myself, and this is why I would continue to fight.
“Lead me to where she is,” I said, not bothering to glance back at Robin.
“Very well,” he said, his steps hurrying forward and surpassing me. He motioned to our left and I followed, gaining back slivers of strength at a time and increasing my pace all the more as we walked along. A hallway branched out from the room full of cells, something I had missed both in visions and my short-lived journey from the church. It veered right and led to a much longer, much darker walkway deeper into the heart of the city.
My stride became surer. Whether the condition a result of my feed or from an inner well of resolve, it mattered not. With one hand, I drew my sword while the other flexed its digits to ensure they truly functioned again. “Her mention of catacombs had not been a fabrication,” I said, my voice lowering to a whisper.
“No, none of that had been a ruse.” He wisely chose not to elaborate on that comment. Instead, we walked the rest of the way in silence, past a series of rooms and headed to a doorway. He stopped far short of it, extending a hand and pointing straight ahead. “In there, Peter, but be careful. The game has changed dramatically.”
I perked an eyebrow, but stepped forward to survey the room with my own eyes, surpassing where Robin stood and leaving him behind me without any further acknowledgement. The sound of his footsteps provided the only sign he had left, my thoughts already straying to the matter at hand. This had been the doorway I had been carried through, and while the vantage point was not fully appreciated while racked with pain, now I saw the truth in all its ugly glory. Whatever the spell had been intended to accomplish, one of its effects was instantly apparent.
I vaguely remembered the sight of bodies appearing in the stands of the amphitheater. Now, I recalled just how empty the seats had been and paled to see each one filled in, the room ebbing dark energy as though a river had overflown its banks. At the same time, it posed a challenge with it; a reminder presented that this was the result of having my blood spilled in such a blatant form of usury. My task had been to destroy the scrolls and so I had, but at such a high cost. Valeria, too, had claimed that I was their creature, meant to release the power of the scrolls into the world. Either way, it meant this had all been inevitable…
“No,” I said, scolding myself out loud. No, this was no longer about the mission. It was not about whose puppet I was or whose destiny I had been charged with realizing. The Fates had proven just as duplicitous as the villains, just as prone to omissions of truth and I had tired of wondering who I belonged to. If I wished to answer that question, I only needed think of the woman who had stood by my side through it all. To her, and her alone, I pledged myself in that moment.
The next step I took forward belonged to her. My wherewithal became hers, and no matter what stood in the way, my shattered psyche was of one mind. The corners of my lips curled upward as I motioned forward, hand touching the edge of the doorway while I indulged a deep, steadying breath. My grip tightened its hold on my sword’s hilt.
’Dearest, please tell me you can hear me. I have been wishing to hear your voice for far too long.’
***
‘Peter? Oh God, Peter, is that you? Because if so, I could really use your help right now.’
The room before me had been laid out in a semi-circle, a flight of stairs before me on the other side of the threshold. Large in size, it boasted a crowd I dared not count, representing men and women alike. Their numbers seemed impossible, and suddenly I recalled something Sabrina had said within the context of that final dream. ‘The prodigal son has returned home. He has his gifts and his immortality, and now, he’ll bring us all back together again.’ Even Valeria herself spoke of wishing a general for an army and as I regarded the now-filled room, her true meaning was plain.
Clad in styles from varying eras, they looked to be vagabonds from times long past and it did not take me long to determine this was the purpose of the scrolls. Resurrect the dark father’s power, yes, but overpower the humans with a force too formidable for them to overcome.
Stairs descended into the room, a walkway at the bottom leading to a platform and flanked on both sides by seats. In the middle of it all laid the altar and right before it stood my watcher. I stepped forward, still cloaked in shadow and remaining there since I had yet to garner any notice. The oil lamps flickered while the hosts that had been summoned watched the events taking place before us. By all accounts, my journey down the stairs would be swift; my walk to the platform without incident if I could move fast enough. It would be once I arrived on the other side that I would become the center of attention.
A scream and movement down below drew my attention back there.
Valeria stepped in front of Monica, her fangs bared. Gripping Monica by her throat, she held on tight enough to bring a look of panic to my beloved’s eyes. “Screech at me again and I’ll cut out your tongue first,” Valeria said, spitting the words in Monica’s face while sneering. The expression on Valeria’s face relaxed after a few tense seconds, a smile lilting past her lips on automatic as the dark sorceress relaxed. She tilted her head, studying Monica before continuing. “You are a powerful one, aren’t you? Not a natural born, but probably more capable than most of them.”
Monica strained to manage speech. Her hands bound in front of her, she seemed to have been rendered incapable of casting. It hardly made the woman incapable of snark. “Yeah, well, imagine how disappointed it made my father that they had to give me the boost,” she countered, her face turning red, but a sarcastic grin surfacing just the same. “I thought it’d only be fair if I made up for it by learning how to turn bitches like you into ash.”
“Oh, I think you wis
h you could do that.” Valeria laughed, pulling my watcher closer. Her tone of voice turned low and threatening. “I’m going to eat you like I did a hundred of your predecessors.”
“I sure hope I disagree with your stomach.”
“We’ll just have to find out.” Pushing her backward, Valeria led Monica closer to the altar. “A shame matters can’t be different and you couldn’t be turned immortal. Your spirit would make you an incredible vampire.”
The action happened so fast, it took even Valeria by surprise. Monica spat at her, hitting her in the eye and instantly wiping the lingering smile from the vampire’s face. “Bet you wish you’d already killed me.”
Valeria growled, using her hold on my watcher to lift her up and throw her down upon the slab where my blood yet lingered. Monica cried out in pain while Valeria pressed her hand atop her chest and chanted a few words under her breath. Whatever spell she had cast had its intended effect – when Valeria stepped away, Monica remained secured into place. “You will learn soon enough what you’re trifling with, little girl,” Valeria said. “As will the rest of your kind.”
The dark witch turned to look in my direction, prompting me to crouch low and out of sight. Fortunately, her eyes focused more on the gathered throng “Brothers and sisters,” she said, “See before you one of them. One of the cretins responsible for your deaths. Each of you met your end at the hand of their seers and today, we have made a farce out of their whole establishment. They put us under their boot for nearly a millennium, stripping us of our power and placing a curse on us, but we’ve triumphed at last.” Her smile returned in all its villainous glory. “Today, we have our father’s power. And we will sire wantonly, until our children can break down the doors of their establishment and destroy them all.”
Spinning to face Monica again, I could only imagine the look in Valeria’s eyes as she added, “Starting with this one.”
The crowd rose to their feet – at least the ones visible from where I hid. I spied a small grouping of them break from the others, slipping off toward the only other exit – on the far side of the room – and felt the slightest bit of relief. They would be a problem for another time. The fewer I had to face at once, the better chance I had of making it to the other side in one piece. At the same time, I already faced wading into a slaughterhouse and as my sights shifted back to Valeria, a knot formed in my stomach.
My hand tightened its hold around the red and black braiding of my katana’s hilt. The point of connect between the human and vampire within me, and already I felt that much bolder from the reminder. Taking one last moment, to steel myself, I determined the time had come for me to step forward. I charged forward before I could second guess myself, leaping down the flight of stairs separating me from the walkway. Straightening to a stand, the vampires nearest me reacted only as I dashed toward the platform. The moment Valeria took notice of the disturbance, her gaze tracked the path being pointed to by the gathered throng until her eyes found me. I was just alighting the steps that would take me up to her when I risked pausing, my eyes seeking her out.
The expression on the magician’s face was unreadable, but her posture reeked of contempt. And though she still held my watcher, giving her a distinct advantage, I was not going to allow her that comfort for long. “If you wish a fitting tribute, why concern yourself with a sorceress?” I asked, marching up to the platform with no hesitation. A smirk touched the corners of my mouth. “Or do I not hold your interest any longer?”
“What can I say? Things change so quickly in this world.” She mirrored my grin. “I tried to bring you to our side of things and you resisted.”
“Still resisting, I am afraid.” I nodded toward Monica. “I suppose that leaves us at an impasse. Although I posit you should let her go before I am well and truly angered with you. You shall not find me so easily vanquished now.”
Valeria chuckled, the sound derisive. “I’ve witnessed more centuries and weathered more battles than you have, child. I wouldn’t place so much weight on your supposed power. Shall I place you back into your box now, my pet?”
“Probably ran away from most of those battles,” Monica muttered, entering the conversation. For as much as the comment made me wince, Valeria responded much faster than I could. Her hand rose, fingers snapping with her gaze still fixed onto mine. Her smile faded fast, however, and my watcher gasped, prompting me to glance at her in panic. Monica’s mouth hung agape, her eyes wide and a wheeze passing through her lips which suggested Valeria had done more than render her mute.
“Now then,” Valeria said. “Where were we?”
Her voice turned darker, a sinister growl rumbling as an undercurrent to her words. A blackness overtook her gaze, tendrils of smoke emanating from her hands and a chill settling in the air. She struck quickly, thrusting a hand forward and instantly releasing a burst of dark energy toward me. It forced me to leap out of its way, and while I landed on my feet, she followed one strike with another, this one moving too fast for me to avoid. I felt the impact land on my chest, knocking me onto the ground with such force, my head rang again. I managed quickly to my feet, just in time to see vapor overtake Valeria.
“Contain him,” she shouted. By the time the smoke dissipated, she had vanished.
‘Peter…’
My gaze jumped from one feature on the platform to another. ‘I know, Dearest, I am trying…’
‘No, look out!’
Turning swiftly, I looked in time to see two vampires leap up behind me. With a quick swipe of the sword, I managed to slice one and set them aback while the other charged for where I stood. Lifting a hand, I threw her toward the stands with telekinetic force, ignoring her for the time being when she managed to collide with some of the others in the process. Still, the presence of more behind them, becoming aware of the fight, spurred the frightening thought that this could get complicated, quickly.
Temporarily distracted, I failed to register that the other vampire had stood until I felt somebody attach themselves to my back. Something sharp penetrated my neck and I cried out, throwing them off on instinct and seeing their fangs coated red with my blood. Freeing a hand to touch my neck, I glowered and took hold of my sword just as she came to her feet. She dodged out of the way from the first two swings I attempted, but the third cut her across her face and stunned her. This gave me enough time to impale her through her chest. Fortunately, she turned to ash, even without a kinetic charge to add a punctuation mark.
At last, something more familiar, I thought.
‘Okay, now me. Quick. Before you get overwhelmed.’
I nodded, turning to face the altar. No sooner had I, however, than a laugh echoed around me, the voice belonging to Valeria. “Oh, I’m going to relish killing her in front of you,” she said, just as a rush of wind from behind threw me forward, tossing me to the floor. My sword flew from my hand, my body sliding until I finally came to a stop by the far end of the platform. Fading injuries screaming in offense, I felt my face burn from the friction, more blood trickling from my wounds to join the rivulets still seeping down my neck.
“A shame you will not get the chance,” I muttered, pushing myself to a stand again.
Valeria laughed. “Not only am I going to, seer, I’m going to make sure to replay the memory of her death every morning for decades to come.
“You shall forgive me if I decline the offer.” My gaze found my sword first – on the ground near Monica. Valeria glanced in the direction my sights strayed, and extended her hand, as though to take my weapon before I could. Making a split second decision, I lifted both hands, one palm pointed toward the stone slab and the other at Valeria. Splitting my psychic abilities between two locales, the hand pointed to the dark magician threw her back with a burst of telekinetic energy. The other honed in on the altar, my focus directed for the metaphysical binds holding my watcher down.
They refused to budge at first, but I felt them start to unravel and knew I had succeeded when Monica succumbed to a fit of
coughing and rolled to her side. Valeria came to her feet again and ran for me, the dark tendrils of smoke returning while she did so. Slipping down from the altar, Monica crouched and grabbed my sword, throwing it for me just as I spied what she had intended to do. One hand caught the hilt while I slid to the ground, avoiding a shot from my nemesis. She attempted another volley, but I dodged it and swung for her, the swipe blind, yet issued with a hope and a prayer. While she arched out of the way, the tip of my sword cut across her amulet, causing a flash of sparks and sending her to the ground. She writhed in pain while I pivoted to face her again.
There she lay before me, presenting an opportunity I dared not dream possible. I lifted my sword, with the intent to plunge it through her, but stopped when I caught sight of something bright in the corner of my eye. Instinctively, I dove down, my eyes wide when I looked up and spotted a ball of fire hurtle through the space I had just vacated. It hit another vampire, who had since crawled onto the platform and threatened to advance.
He burned to cinders within seconds.
“Fortunate,” I muttered, and yet, as I lifted up again, I realized how dire the situation had become. Furthermore, Valeria had disappeared again, and as I exchanged a glance with Monica, she motioned with her hands, indicating a puff of smoke. I understood the warning when I caught sight of another fireball hurtling toward us. We both dashed out of its way, then looked toward each other once more.
“You take the high road and I’ll take the low road,” Monica said.
“No,” I countered. “Get to safety.”
Monica scoffed. “Please. Are we just meeting or something?” She cracked her knuckles. “Don’t slow me down, bucko. You have pyromaniac at nine o’clock.”
“Noted.” Dodging out of the way from another projectile, I glanced to the side, seeing a man dressed in antiquated clothing vault onto the platform. He sneered while I turned to face him, motioning as if to conjure while I freed a hand from my sword’s hilt. Energy crackled up my fingers, moving to my wrist while fire formed between his palms. Before he could finish the spell, I discharged the blast of light, watching it incinerate him where he stood.