Nameless Cult

by Grey Durose

  The cult was locked in a heated discussion of the events of the previous week, the losses their brothers and sisters had suffered, and of who might be responsible for the slaughter. The language seemed to be a mix of Italian and some sort of older Latin dialect, which made it hard to follow. From what George understood, they were even considering the possibility that another branch of their cult may have been responsible.

  Jacqueline gave him a nudge, he looked across and could see she was eager to get started. He motioned for her to calm herself and pointed to the leader, she glanced over then back again; George pointed to himself. The message was understood, he hoped. Jacqueline lifted her gun, locked her arms and tilted her head to make sure she could maximise her accuracy. George stood across from her and knelt, to stay out of the way of any stray bullets. He extended both arms and aimed each gun at a separate target. He mouthed a countdown from three and on the fourth beat they both began to fire.

  Jacqueline let loose with a controlled burst of fire, a group of four cultists had made an obvious target and the spray of bullets tore through their robes, ripping in to the soft flesh beneath. All four of the cultists were hit by a number of rounds, shredding their vital organs and sending them crashing to the floor.

  George had been just as successful, he felled one target with a quick burst of three rounds from his off-hand and with his more accurate right a single shot had been sent spinning through the air toward the head of a second cultist. The bullet struck the side of the cultist’s skull at the hairline. As it impacted on the bone, it sent a shockwave through the thin layer of skin coating it, the skull broke inward as the momentum of the lead bullet drove through. Slowed by the impact, it ripped through the cultist's - still thinking - mind, rupturing blood vessels and turning the grey matter inside to mush. Finally, it struck the inside of the skull and flattened out on its surface, cracking that side of the skull in to four uneven pieces whose sharp edges sliced though the scalp. The misshapen bullet pulled chunks of pulverised human brain along behind it as it left his skull.

  George ceased fire as, without warning, Jacqueline advanced straight across his line of sight. He had no choice now but to join her. Both firing again and again, the remaining six cultists fell quickly, before they had a chance to reveal what disturbing powers they may have been granted.

  With his minions felled in the blinking of an eye, the leader rose from his throne to meet the challenge. Even accounting for the few steps which his throne sat atop, this creature was enormous, at least eight feet tall and almost as broad across its heavy shoulders. The creature gave a roaring snort, filling the chamber with its terrible noise. The leader stepped down to floor level in one enormous stride, slamming its feet down with tangible force.

  'You will pay for this desecration with your lives!' The creature was enraged and began to snort again as he lowered his horns in Jacqueline's direction.

  She wasted no time in emptying the remainder of her clip at the creature as it began to charge but was horrified to see her shots enter the body of the creature with little affect, only small rippling holes momentarily appeared. By the time she realised her bullets were wasted, the creature was almost upon her, she barely had time to grab its horns and hoist herself up so her waist could slip between them. A second later, the horns struck the wall, sending chunks of broken stone and painted plaster flying in all directions, the crown of its head impacted on Jacqueline's abdomen, winding her. The creature reared up and pulled Jacqueline off its horns like a rag doll, it grasped her throat with its left hand and began to squeeze the life out of her.

  George had been caught out by the speed with which all this had happened and he wasn't used to having to protect other people in a fight. Now his senses came back to him and he sprang in to action. He raised both his guns at the creature but, realising the pointlessness of this, he adjusted his aim to the thinnest part of the creature's wrist. It was extremely risky, aiming that close to Jacqueline's head, but it was the fastest way to save her from choking to death. He began to fire, the bullets hit their target time and again, sending waves along the creature's arm. At last, with his final shot, he managed to sever the hand, allowing Jacqueline to drop to the ground, gasping for air, with a stain of dark vampiric blood clinging to her throat like an unpleasant liquid necklace.

  The furious creature turned to George and began to charge him. He tossed his guns to the floor and backed off toward the wall behind him, drawing his dagger. The creature ran across the floor, its talons ripping up the tiles as it came and its face contorted with fury. As it arrived, George crouched a little then leapt straight up, soaring above the creature's lowered head. The room shook and the chandelier rattled as the horns crashed in to the wall again. George parted his legs as he dropped on to the flat of the horns. As he landed he brought his dagger down on the back of the creature's neck with all the might of both arms. The dagger sliced deep in to the vampire's neck, until its tip broke free through the front of its throat. George began to slice through the neck in a rapid slashing action. The black volcanic glass of the blade came out one side, leaving the head only half attached and sending splatters of its blood to the floor.

  The creature reared up and shook its head, trying to throw George off but he clung on relentlessly with his thighs. The motion of tossing George back and forth only succeeded in making the gash to its neck open up and tear further. The moment the creature was still, George stabbed down his blade again, slicing away the remainder of the neck. He dropped to the floor with a shower of stale blood landing between his widely spread legs. While the creature was still adapting to its headless form, he grasped his dagger with both hands again and rushed past its right thigh, cutting through the artificial form of false muscle and sending the vampire crashing to the ground in a puddle of its own fluids.

  George rushed over to Jacqueline, he was relieved to find she was barely conscious but still breathing. There was the sound of wet thrashing, grunts and snorts behind him. He knew the creature would adapt and recover. He would have to finish this, now.

  The creature began to glow with an eerie silver light and the whole room began to vibrate. George could hear the tinkling of the crystals in the chandelier from above. Whatever the creature was up to, it had wasted its last chance to regenerate its form. George rushed across the room and removed the creature's right arm with a precisely chosen strike; a flood of dark ooze washed across the floor as the rest of its body dissolved, coating George's boots. The arm flopped around in the blood for a few moments then began to claw its way toward the throne.

  'Not so fast, I haven't finished with you.' George was angry and he was going to make sure it suffered.

  He put away his knife and pressed down on the pressure pad in his palm, a spurt of flame gushed out on to the arm, it began to burn and shrivel, the remainder squirming and thrashing in something resembling agony. He passed the flames slowly down the arm, to the elbow then the forearm and the wrist, until only the hand was left. He finished the job with a trickle of fire and, as the flame engulfed the hand the familiar sense of something terrible rose up in the smoke and a moment later was gone.

  He gathered up his guns and returned to Jacqueline. He knelt down beside her and rolled her on to her back, her throat was covered with red marks and would be badly bruised. He pricked her finger and her hand recoiled from the pain; the creature hadn't broken her neck. He gently patted her face a few times and said her name. Slowly, her eyes flickered open. He hadn't looked closely at her eyes before, they were dark and beautiful like pools of soft velvet but that wasn't what was holding his attention. There was something familiar about those eyes, it was right on the edge of his memory.

  'If you've finished staring, Romeo, there's something behind you!' Jacqueline's eyes widened even further and she rolled towards her gun.

  George tumbled forward, away from whatever it was. As he rolled, he saw flashes of black robes and bloody flesh and when he came to a halt the full form of the walking corpse of o
ne of the cultists was in view. The animated cadaver shuffled towards them, its skull half shot away, exposing the scrambled remains of its brain, one eye hanging by a thread, dangling over its cheekbone. It seemed to be mouthing something but its ability to form words was lost with the lumps of pinkish-grey ooze still spilling from its cranium. Worse still, signs of life were returning to all of the other robed cultists. Some were able to climb to their feet but others were so badly damaged that the best they could muster was to drag their bodies across the ground.

  Jacqueline moved first, tugging on the trigger of her gun. 'Empty! Shit!' She began rifling through her bag for fresh magazines.

  George swept up his guns but he too was running on empty. Fortunately the corpses were in no shape to move quickly. 'This way.' George urged, pointing at the throne.

  'Right behind you.' Jacqueline paused long enough to load her gun before following on George's heels.

  When they arrived at the steps George noticed that the throne wasn't flush with the wall, he stepped down the side and found that beyond the great throne, was a doorway in to another chamber. He grabbed Jacqueline by the arm and pulled her in. Beyond the arch, the pair found themselves in a cluster of chambers, interconnected by wide archways; the creature’s living quarters. There was no time to stop and admire the choice of décor as the pair immediately started setting themselves on either side of the entrance, each aiming diagonally across at the gaps between the back of the throne and the door arch.

  They laid out their remaining ammunition and hand weapons to one side, and waited. After a few moments the shuffling of the zombies' laboured movements began to get closer and then the form of the first corpse began to emerge from the throne room. As soon as it was in full view, George began to fire. A single shot from the gun in his left hand unleashed a bullet which hit the remainder of the skull, blowing away the last pieces of bone and brain cupped by the broken skull at the top of its head. The zombie seemed unconcerned. The second shot passed through below the jaw and removed the rest of the head, the brain stem and the top of the spinal column. This time the zombie stopped in its tracks and slumped to the floor.

  'Aim for the brain stem!' He called across to Jacqueline as he kept his weapon trained on the gap in front of him.

  Two of the prone corpses began to crawl around the corner of the throne, jostling with each other for position. One of them elbowed its way to the fore but the other grabbed its robes and began to claw its way on to the back of its rival. The scene filled Jacqueline with a morbid fascination. These creatures had been all but cut in half by her shots earlier and they were still trying to get to her. She broke from her thoughts, disturbed by George letting off another couple of shots and the sound of another zombie falling and hitting the wall next to her. She began to fire. They were easy fodder and her position on the ground made it a simple task for her to shoot straight at the top of their heads, removing what intellect remained to control their corpses.

  They continued shooting until all twelve had been re-killed and they could stop and take a moment to gather their thoughts. 'That was... unexpected.' Jacqueline had seen all kinds of things in her years of travelling, but never had her foes come back for more.

  'It was fairly new for me too. Master Giovanni tackled some zombies, or so he told me. Never seen them with my own eyes, though.' He was still watching the corpses, half expecting them to rise again.

  'Master Giovanni?' She was puzzled by the title.

  'My father.' George winced as he said it.

  'You call your father, Master?' She looked at him, slightly open-mouthed.

  'My adoptive father; my teacher. It's complicated.' He'd had enough of this line of questioning.

  'So where is Master Giovanni? Waiting for you back at the plantation?' Her tone was mocking and she made quotation marks in the air as she said Master Giovanni's name.

  'He's dead, has been for a long time now.' George replied.

  Jacqueline cringed. 'Oh, I'm sorry. I should have thought before I spoke. You don't get to choose how long you get with those you love, especially in this business. Grams was only in her sixties when she passed, I worry about Angela, she's about the same age now.' A sincere sadness washed over Jacqueline's face, she didn't like the thought of being alone and, once Angela went, it would be her against the world.

  'I wouldn't worry, I'm sure your mother's still just a youngster compared to Giovanni, and I'm still going strong.' He said.

  'Just how old are you?' One eyebrow lifted to fresh heights with a quizzical look to end them all.

  'Let's just say: old enough, and leave it at that.' No more secrets today, at least, that's what he told himself. He wasn't sure why he found it so hard to conceal anything from this woman. He'd spent his life in a constant state of readiness to deceive, and had more practice at it than most people would get in ten lifetimes. Maybe it's because I find her so attractive, he pondered. He was trained to resist physical desire, maybe it's because we have such similar lives; he'd been deprived of such companionship since old Gio had died.

  'Okay, old man. I'll let you have your little secret, for now.' She said with a smile.

  The main chamber seemed to be a feeding area. The creature must have delighted in torturing its victims before it consumed them. The centre of the room was filled by a wide stone table, rising three feet from the floor. There were brown-stained metal restraints in each corner and the whole table was slightly tilted toward one end, where a collection bowl was ground in to the surface.

  There was a fireplace in one corner of the room and next to it was a rack of various metal implements which could be heated and applied to the flesh of a victim, or anyone else that displeased the creature. Some of the implements were simple pokers but there were other ones which had more in common with a branding iron. Some were bladed and one was even shaped like a giant syringe. Lining the walls between the four archways, were all kinds of other devices and tools, all of which George could imagine being used to cause pain or drain blood. Heavy iron chains - some with hooks welded on to their links - slender-bladed short daggers for probing, curved flaying knives, whips and plug taps. Thousands of years of depravity had caused the creature to use its imagination in order to keep its restricted existence interesting. The whole room gave George the creeps.

  The back chamber was a resting area for the vampire, there were no lights and heavy velvet curtains were tied back at each side of the entrance. Comfort seemed to be unimportant to this creature, its bed was an open stone sarcophagus, with soil in the bottom, much more in keeping with classic vampire myth than some of its counterparts.

  The right hand arch led straight through in to some kind of laboratory. Various chemicals lined the shelves alongside some obscure occult ingredients, including a strange imp-like creature staring out from a jar of alcohol. George recognised a lot of the paraphernalia here, this creature seemed to be much better informed than his fellow cult leaders. The main work surface was home to a lot of glassware and to one side of the room there was a small forge. A skilled practitioner could manufacture no end of charms and potions here and George was left in no doubt that the vampire had the relevant knowledge and skill to do so when he entered the final chamber. This room contained the creature's library, a green marble desk took centre stage, with a collection of tomes and manuscripts piled up or opened at pages of interest. All around were shelves spilling over with more books.

  'Anything valuable?' Jacqueline's eyes lit up at the sight of the ancient books.

  'Priceless.' He replied.

  'Hmm, some of these look pretty old, I bet I could get a good price from my dealer.' She noted. Jacqueline began to run her finger along the spines of the books on the shelves.

  George broke from his reading, 'Dealer? No-no-no! These aren't for sale!'

  'Don't worry, I'll let you have first pick. Some of us have bills to pay and I haven't made a big score in a long time.' She replied, paying only passing attention to George's opinion.

 
; 'No, not these ones.' He moved across to guard the shelves. 'I need to take some of these for my own library, anything I can't carry has to be destroyed.' There was a tinge of horror to his eyes.

  'Look, I'll make a deal: anything you want, you can have, but in return for my generosity, you have to go through and find some junk I can sell.' She suggested.

  George stopped to think about it for a moment. 'Give me a few minutes. I'll see what he's got and if there's anything here that's useless but expensive.' He suggested. He shook his head in disapproval, she obviously had no idea how dangerous the wrong kind of knowledge could be.

  He moved away from the desk, nothing there was ever getting in to the hands of a book dealer; that much he was sure of. The shelves were packed, some books he'd never heard of and some so old he barely dared touch them. Eventually, he came to a section of books the creature had dismissed. He pulled out a pile of six of the oldest tomes and placed them on the corner of the desk. 'There, you should be able to get a quarter of a million for those, even on the black market.' It was a complete guess. Although the books had no use to a practitioner of the dark arts, some of them were centuries old and age alone made them valuable.

  'That wasn't so hard now, was it? And the world hasn't ended.' She added the last part with a little more sarcasm than George was willing to swallow.

  'This isn't a joke!' He bellowed. He picked up one of the weightier tomes and thrust it in her direction, 'With this book a single person, with enough education and half a brain, could bring down a small city in a day.' He gave her a stern look, she had to understand a few things about the job and he was suddenly in the mood to do some teaching.

  'Okay, no need to be a douche about it!' She growled. Jacqueline was not the kind of person to be lectured.

  George could feel himself starting to turn red with rage and his heart was pounding, he wasn't sure if he wanted to shoot her or kiss her. Instead he chose to shout at her, 'You just don't get it, do you? I spend my life cleaning up the mess that knowledge like this can cause. Meanwhile, you're merrily skipping round the globe spreading it about like there's no tomorrow!'