The Order: A Knight Of Fangs

by J. X. Evans

  The huge man lifted his axe, slowly and without any sign of difficulty, neither physical nor emotional, from the mutilated corpse and placed it on top of a wide shoulder in a familiar and confident manner. George’s lifeless body slowly toppled to the floor in an awkward half-sitting and half-sprawling position. Half his face resting against the filthy trash can that Rob had unfairly mistreated a bit earlier. A halo of blood and brains was now decorating the crumpling building wall, at the place where George had been leaning against it, like a macabre and unseemly graffiti.

  But of course this…thing, could not be a man, it could not have been anything else other than a vampire. Well… actually it could, but Rob found it highly unlikely since all evidence pointed towards their side of the street.

  The vampire stood still, looking at the dead man for a second, silent as if it was considering something. Rob took this chance to draw his mace and the sawn off double barrel shotgun from his gym bag and toss the bag on the floor so that it would not be in his way. ‘Why this now? How could they have known I was on their trail? I just now started working on it…’

  “You are going to pay for this you bastard…” Rob half shouted and half growled in anger, “Why are you kidnapping the children? Where are they?” There was no answer, the vampire remained silent and kept on looking at the battered, unrecognizable corpse that it had so effortlessly created.

  This whole thing about not getting the answers to the questions that he was so politely asking was starting to get on Rob’s nerves. At least he would feel no particular remorse about beating the answers out of this particular fucker.

  The vampire finally turned his pale blue gaze towards Rob and swung its long axe from his shoulder in a spinning motion, simultaneously taking a huge step towards him.

  It was so fast that Rob barely had time enough to take a single step backwards, the sharp and heavy metal tongue of the axe slightly licking his nose and trimming the tip of his beard. A couple of black and grey trimmed hair, heavy with rain water, fell helplessly on the ground. The vampire kept swinging and coming towards him with such speed and strength that he could barely even dodge and Rob was rapidly and steadily getting cornered towards the end of the alley. He felt as if his footing was a bit off, as if his balance was lacking for some reason. The heel of his left boot had been chopped off by the vampire’s attack earlier, when he was rolling away and felt a force at his leg, filthy rain water from puddles had soaked his warm sock and his foot. It would cost him little, yet precious, balance and timing.

  Suddenly the vampire launched itself forward, kicking Rob in the center of his chest, driving the air from his lungs and tossing him off his feet. Rob landed heavily on the ground, and the vampire went for an overhead blow, bringing its axe over its own head in a fast, fluid motion and swinging it down in an arc without the slightest hint of emotion, in the manner that a wood cutter might chop logs for the fire. Rob aimed his shotgun in the general direction of the vampire, rolling out of the way and coughing all the while from the strong kick that had slammed on top of his solar plexus. He pulled both triggers. There was a loud bang, and pellets scattered from the shortened barrel of the weapon in a wide angle and made for the vampire’s wide chest. The vampire pirouetted, quickly and gracefully, avoiding most of the bullets, even though such a feat seemed nigh impossible, and Rob turned and kicked at the vampire’s ankles. The vampire jumped back avoiding the swing and landing lightly on a shallow puddle. The vampire took a disinterested look at a couple of small, round bullet wounds in his left arm that oozed blood, apparently waiting for Rob to get back up. Rob obliged him and stood, dropping the empty shotgun on the floor; it was not like he would have time to reload the thing against such a fast opponent. He grabbed his heavy mace with both hands, wishing he had his shield with him, but the darn thing was impossible to conceal in public… he still had his citrine after all. He tightened his grip on the mace’s handle, took a deep breath and charged the monster. The vampire mimicked him and they met halfway.

  Their weapons clashed heavily and Rob’s attack was completely stopped on its tracks, but so did the vampire’s. They struck at one another, their weapons almost a blur. When one was striking the other was evading and vice versa, turning and dodging in furious concentration, timing and skill. The vampire swung with both arms in a wide arc and Rob met its weapon with his own, the impact of the heavy metal weapons producing a deafening clanking sound that echoed in the narrow alley, the force jolting Rob’s teeth and setting his heavy bones to rattling. Still though, Rob forced himself to follow up on the attack by landing a roundhouse kick right on the center of the creature’s barrel of a chest, causing it to backpedal, waving its arms and axe awkwardly, but only for a moment in an attempt to regain its balance. Rob pressed his advantage, swinging as fast as he could, but the vampire somehow rolled with the blow, escaping most of the mace’s impact while at the same time dragging its bearded axe behind Rob’s left ankle, causing him to lose his balance yet again. The vampire recovered fast and charged, its breathing coming no faster than if it was casually strolling down a park a fine evening, its cold eyes even less interested than his lungs. Rob still in midair and falling.

  Rob concentrated in gathered his strength and energy, directing them inside the small green emerald hanging from his slim gold chain. A vivid green light begun shining from the gem and through the red bandana that he was wearing around his left wrist, to hide the precious and uncommon piece of jewelry from people’s sight and curiosity. The emerald started shaking violently on the golden chain, and the light grew brighter as Rob was gathering more and more strength and energy within it, his muscles and bones, especially the small bones in his wrist, shaking annoyingly and painfully along to the rhythm and the motion of the vibrating emerald. A transparent greenish force exploded from Rob’s outstretched left arm, rushing to crush into the oncoming vampire and squash him like the bloodsucking pest that it was. Rob felt a sharp crushing pain on his arm, as if it was momentarily put inside a hydraulic press, and he started flying backwards, since his feet were not firmly rooted to the ground like they were supposed to if he did not want to get flung like a booger from a finger. Action and reaction, you push something and it pushes back. Rob hit the ground and rebounded, toppling and rolling and slamming into a wall in the far side of the alley, which was by no stretch of the imagination a feather pillow, but he was generally unharmed, other than the slight pain on his hand he was okay.

  Rob lifted his eyes, smiling all the while. But his smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. Incredibly, the vampire was standing right there, seemingly unmoved and unharmed…which is not at all what Rob had expected. Judging from the energy and power that he had placed behind the strike, and from his many past experiences, Rob was expecting the vampire to be flying halfway across the other side of the city at the moment, maybe exhibiting a crushed arm, or a leg, or a head preferably, wherever the force had slammed in it, but it had maybe only been moved a couple of steps backwards, if it had been moved at all. The vampire was standing there, same expression of boredom on its cold face, holding its right arm stretched out in front of it, as if it was holding an invisible shield. Rob tried to focus his eyes at its hand and he saw what had happened. He didn’t like it, he did not like it one bit, and he had expected it even less than he liked it. The vampire’s leather jacket had been torn at the wrist from the force of the blow to reveal a dark leather wrist guard underneath, a black jewel sitting on top of it, a black jewel the size of a hen’s egg. The jewel was gleaming with a dark greenish light that was getting dimmer by the second, inconceivably thin strings of black and green smoke rising from its surface. The vampire lowered its hand and decided to resume its advancement, darting towards Rob at the far end of the alley.

  ‘Fuck….me!’, Rob figured that no matter how much he wanted to kick that guy’s ass, the situation had turned out to be…kind of dangerous, and it would probably be better to result in a tactical retreat… well it would definitely be better. I
t is definitely not chickening out if it is done tactically. Rob searched his surroundings, walls, bricks, cracks and the narrow space of the alley… ‘Crap’. He was about to give up and get back in the fight, it did not seem that much of a bad idea, but he noticed an old retracted fire-escape ladder on the side of the old building. He took two quick steps and jumped, kicked the side of the wall to propel himself even higher and hooked the head of his mace on the lowest step of the ladder. The ladder shuddered and dropped a bit as a latch broke from Rob’s weight, but he held on and started climbing up as fast as he could. The vampire mimicked him moments later, jumping and grabbing on to the rusted piece of metal, agile as a chimp, despite its size.

  Rob started climbing the old rattling ladder, which threatened to give way with each tag, and he felt a couple of screws coming a bit loose as well at a point in his ascend. He was halfway to the top of the building, his mace hanging from a string on the inside of his duster so that he could climb easier, using both his hands. Even so the vampire was catching up to him ever so slowly, but steadily, and if nothing was done, then it would surely catch up to him. ‘Fucking hell’, Rob calmly concentrated his energy in the small diamond hanging from the chain on his wrist and each time that his left hand touched a rusty metal bar on the ladder he let a measure of that energy flow through him and into the metal, leaving it coated in ice almost through and through. The whole process proved easy at first, since the moist metal was already near frozen from the cold rain and freezing it completely required relatively small effort. Yet the process also required a moderate amount of precision and restraint which was not easy to master, the constant gathering of small amounts of energy, the continuous opening and closing of the ‘magical sphincters’ was hard work, like starting to pee and then having to hold the stream in again, and again and again. The sort of magic that the Knights used liked to accumulate and flurry and when the magical gates were flung open it liked to burst through in a torrent, like his earlier show of pure, inelegant destructive power that required the gathering of a lot more energy but it was done once and then Rob had given it a guiding line and he had let it go its merry way, and the fact that the blast had done practically nothing was irrelevant. A second or two later, there was a clanking sound and the ladder shuddered violently. A frozen piece of metal broke just as the heavy vampire placed its weight on it, and the vampire fell; only for a couple of meters though, before grabbing hold of another rusty but not frozen step. It regained its footing and it was now climbing back up again as if nothing had happened, now holding the side of the ladder so that it would not have to face the same situation in the near future. But Rob had gained precious seconds from his little stunt and he was just now grabbing the edge of the roof with his left blue and ice coated, slightly trembling from the cold hand.

  Rob had to escape, he had to return at base and discuss the situation with Perry… it had just occurred to him that for all he knew he was not the only one making new unpleasant acquaintances. He did not like it, he did not like it one bit. He needed to go see if everything was ok. The vampire was fast though and it did not seem like a chase would discourage it. On the contrary, maybe its predatory instincts would even flare up its disinterested demeanor; Rob thought that even now it was climbing with newly found giddiness. He had no time for playing chase or hide and seek.

  Rob found an old and rusty water tank on top of the roof of the old building, right next to the fire escape. It had no lid and it was full, water was running down its side like a mini waterfall from a medium sized hole near its top. Rob drew his heavy mace and swung near the base of the container, the old, rusty metal bucket breaking as easily as if it was made out of dry macaroni. Cold water started falling down the side of the building, almost on top of the ladder, gallons of it. Rob placed his hand near the small torrent of cold water and concentrated once again on the small diamond, this time without minding about precision or grace. He flung his gate open and parts of the water started freezing almost instantly, dropping in a rain of sharp stalactites, and other parts froze in big, heavy blocks of ice, smashing on the ground and some of them fell right on top of the vampire’s head and body. The vampire lost its grip as two heavy blocks of ice fell on top of it in rapid succession and tossed him farther down the ladder still, it could not have been either a pleasant or a painless experience and yet the monster made not a sound. At last, Rob lifted his mace in his right hand and brought it crushing down the old wall, at the place where the ladder was screwed down on the roof, breaking it off completely in chunks of stone and dust. With a hard kick he sent the old ladder toppling from the side of the building, screws cracking audibly as they came out of the gradually arcing and falling ladder.

  The vampire let go of the ladder and dropped down on the ground, staring up into Rob’s eyes with its steady dead gaze, the coldness in its stare competing with the immense cold feeling in Rob’s blue left palm, the one he was now holding under his hairy armpit so that it would heat up a bit. The vampire would not be able to catch up to him now, or at least so he hoped.

  Rob turned and ran with mixed feelings of anger, frustration and perplexity, jumping from rooftop to rooftop to get as far away as possible from the vampire before climbing back down to street level. Some feeling had almost started to come back to his frozen palm, he preferred it when he could barely fill nothing other than cold, now it was cold and painful as well. He gathered a minor amount of energy into his ruby, he let it transform to heat and then he let it diffuse in his palm to help bring the temperature back to normal. He had to return to the café as soon as possible, something was most definitely wrong, and in a major way as well. The vampire did not simply happen to pass by with its gigantic heavy battle axe and attack him like that out of the blue, and it most definitely did not just happen to come across a noctis gemstone browsing at the flea market during a lazy summer afternoon stroll. Something was wrong, he was hoping that it would only be a regional matter…but he just could not see it playing out like that.

  12. IT JUST GOT BETTER

  Zora was just about to follow Pericles down the staircase to the basement, where presumably the minotaur’s carcass was being kept. She could almost see the end of this farce of a task quickly approaching. The big red end sign dancing freely in the wind just around the corner, though not approaching quickly enough for her taste. She still had to load the specimen on the truck and have a nice thirteen long hour drive back to Belgrade, where she would have a nice, preferably short, talk with her grandma regarding a few changes concerning the immediate future of her career…or maybe a long messy one, depending on whether her grandma would have any objections to any of her reasonable wishes or not. The important thing was that she had finally decided on the matter and there was no turning back. After all, she had thirteen long, quiet hours in her leisure to figure out exactly what to say and how to say it. Sure, her grandma was her commanding officer, and sure she was the one to decide on how to distribute her subordinate’s time and abilities, but Zora felt as if she was being unjustly discriminated against. She was willing to stake the remainder of her career upon that statement, even the most useless, clumsiest, sorriest fool would have seen some action by now. Sure there was a chain of command, but there were rules and there was logic as well.

  She had not even laid a foot on the first step of the stairs when she heard that mild, melodic bell ringing sound from the door, signaling that someone had just entered. Zora closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her small nose, in frustration. ‘Ah, the only department of the Order in the whole fucking country…and it is a fucking coffee shop. What a joke.’ She could understand why her grandmother had no respect for this particular regional commander. She turned around slowly, to take a look at the people entering through the widely open door, and so did Pericles.

  It looked like a big group of people had just stormed the café, speaking all together at one another in their weird native language, it sounded like barbaric gibberish to her ear. She looked at Pericles, fru
strated though not showing it, ‘hide your emotions, control them, they can only put you in a disadvantage’, well in most situations either way. He seemed to her…kind of abashed. At least he had the decency to be ashamed about the sorry state that the base was in, not that he was the one in command but it could be a step towards improvement. The huge black cat from earlier made an appearance once again. He darted from the dark corner he was snuggling in and passed both her and Pericles by, running down the stairs to the basement like the little hairy demon he was, sharp nails skidding on the store’s floor… but this seemed like an unusual behavior, was it frightened by the loud crowd? It couldn’t be…he was a coffee shop-house cat. He probably socialized with strangers every day, even jumped out to greet her when she passed through the door earlier.

  Zora took a closer look at the huddled group, looking at each individual separately; and as she did, she understood why the cat acted the way that he did, and why she was feeling Pericles getting increasingly more and more tense beside her. She focused on the crowd, and she felt angry. Angry with herself, angry with the fact that she was slower even than the fat demon cat to realize that something was amiss. It was worse than she had feared. Could really only ten months of dull routine and bureaucracy have done this to her? She was appalled with herself.