The 3-Book King’s Blood Vampire Saga

by P. J. Day

  “The Seraphs are up here as a last line of defense. You need to get to the center of that basin,” Adam said, his voice stern with focus. “I will handle the Seraphs.”

  Adam flew the helicopter toward a narrow ridge. There was a naturally-made, geological platform on the side of the ridge that seemed like a perfect spot to land. Adam lowered the chopper and hovered a few feet off the rocky ground. He didn’t know how to land with the traditional instruments, but he committed to it anyway. The helicopter abruptly touched ground, bouncing everyone around as if they were inside a pinball machine. Paolo bumped his head on the metal ceiling. Keelen pinned her shoulder in between the seat’s metal armrests as she held onto Logan’s body, instead of using her hands to balance herself.

  The engine ceased, the blade and rotor whirled slowly to a stop and something wet and white hit the windshield. Adam looked up and snow began to fall.

  Everyone streamed out in orderly fashion. Adam was the last out of the chopper. He stepped out with his mother on his shoulder and proceeded to gently place her on the white-powdered ground. With a snap of his finger, threads of golden silk began to circle Thalia’s body as if some invisible and enchanted arachnid was wrapping her up. Adam got on one knee, placed his hand over Thalia’s chest and bowed his head. His pulled his lips back and he began to weep. “I’m so sorry,” he said through his sobs. “I should have stopped them.”

  Cindy walked up to Adam from behind and placed her hand on his burnt back.

  “Don’t touch me,” he said gruffly. Pain had manipulated his mood. “I could have defended her, but I didn’t.”

  “Well, from what I gathered, from the Apocryphon, you had no choice in the matter,” she said.

  Adam turned around as the snow began to fall heavily, covering Cindy’s straight and silky hair. He felt the snowflakes cool the fresh, opened wounds that littered his entire body. He then placed his blackened hands on Cindy’s shoulders and asked, “Where’s the Apocryphon?”

  “It’s in my bag, inside the helicopter.”

  “Can you get it?”

  Cindy snatched the backpack out of the helicopter and handed it to Adam. He pulled out the large red book and began thumbing through it. Although Adam knew of the prophetic outcome, he didn’t know of its machinations. His brows scrunched with agitation. Something he’d found inside the book bothered him. “This is incredible, everything is documented, but...but where are the last pages?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?” Cindy asked, grabbing the book from Adam’s hands and inspecting it herself.

  “Someone tore out the pages.”

  “This isn’t right,” Cindy said, as she massaged the torn edges. “Yeah, you’re right...what the hell?”

  The wind howled and the snowfall increased. The temperature suddenly dropped. Frost blanketed the top of the mountain. The ground turned white and snowfall rose, reaching the tops of everyone’s ankles.

  Cindy turned around and faced the group. “Did any of you tear the pages from this book?”

  Everyone’s lips remained flat. Eyes neutral. No one emitted suspicion.

  She looked toward Adam and pleaded, “I’m sorry...I read through two-thirds of this book. I don’t know what the rest meant. I don’t understand why anyone would do this...I didn’t notice any torn pages before. Dammit...”

  Just beyond the snowfall at the edge of the mountain they could see the city engulfed in flames. Countless plumes of black smoke rose hundreds of feet into the air. The glow from the pockets and pools of magma sparkled from a distance. Jrue’s fire looked slow-moving from 10,000 feet above sea level, but the reality was that it was approaching fast, like a swarm of incendiary locusts.

  The darkened sky above their heads swirled. Purple and reddish hues emerged, dotting the dark clouds with long sherbet-colored stripes. The top of the mountain rumbled. Rocks tumbled down the granite slopes. Up above, at the center of the black brume churn, a dozen Seraphs appeared, flying in circles, shrieking.

  With crazed eyes, Adam yelled at the group, “Go up that slope, now.”

  “Where are they?” Keelen asked. She scanned the surrounding brush with panic in her eyes.

  Adam sensed danger and quickly picked up Thalia’s bound body and tossed it into the helicopter. Adam turned around and out of nowhere, four Seraphs appeared and pounced on him like a pride of famished lions. Instinctively, Cindy rushed to Adam’s aid. She grabbed a long, pointy branch and flung it at one of the creatures that had clawed itself onto Adam’s back. Adam sparked himself on fire and tried to repel the Seraphs off his arms and shoulders, but they looked determined on ripping Adam apart piece by piece, and no amount of heat seemed to deter them. He fell to the ground as the creatures relentlessly mauled him.

  “Go!” Adam yelled, from beneath the winged pile of gray flesh. “Take Logan.”

  “Cindy, come on,” yelled Keelen, as she held onto Logan’s hand, his body lying lifelessly on the ground.

  Cindy didn’t listen. She ran up and kicked one of the creatures. Annoyed, the Seraph turned around and slammed Cindy to the ground by slapping her chest with its wing. The Seraph declawed itself off of Adam and pounced on Cindy. Paolo, seeing that Cindy was in grave danger, rushed the Seraph as it was about to strike her with its claw and tackled the beast against the nose of the helicopter. “Keelen...Mirabel...go!” Paolo yelled.

  Keelen dragged the 175-pound demigod a few meters toward the hill. Panting and sweating, she stopped to catch her breath.

  “Help me, goddammit,” Keelen yelled at Mirabel, who stood still with her hands on her face, paralyzed as she watched the group succumb to the winged beasts. Mirabel heard Keelen’s cries for help and ran toward her. As soon as she bent down to lift Logan’s feet, a Seraph swooped down and lifted her off the ground with its talons. Mirabel didn’t scream or yell as she was whisked away into the dark skies.

  Terrified, Keelen didn’t stop. She continued to drag Logan through the snow and up the hill. Her grip slipped occasionally and she’d fall on her behind, but with relentless determination, she immediately sprang back up on her feet and doubled her effort.

  The hill was covered in trees and dried brush. The falling snow camouflaged and protected her from the spiral-eye hunters that patrolled the foliage below like birds of prey. Embers floated past her line of sight, contrasting with the snowflakes as if they were red and white fairies jostling for sport. As she trudged backward with her back facing the incline, she stared straight ahead and could see a red glow emanating from beyond the treeline. The solid snowfall that almost reached the middle of her shin slowly turned to slush. Her cold cheeks warmed. “Come on, Keelen,” she grunted at herself. “Get him up top. You can do it.”

  Tears streamed down her face. The pain was excruciating. Her shoulder had been separated when Adam landed the helicopter, and the reality of the injury was beginning to settle in. “I can’t do this,” she breathed to herself. She then shook her head and peered at the roiling clouds above. An ominous feeling overtook her. Surrender crossed her mind, but she knew she couldn’t give up. Logan gave her one mission and that was to take him to the top of the mountain. He had done much for her and it wouldn’t be right leaving his body half-buried in the muddy slush, undignified, after lifting the veil of corruption for all of mankind.

  The mountaintop grumbled. The ground vibrated as if she were standing on top of a warehouse filled with thousands of massage machines. Keelen reached deeply. The last fifty or so yards of angry slope wasn’t going to prevent her from keeping her promise to Logan and a potential promise to life itself. The air, flowers, insects, the ocean, green and lush hillsides that sprouted in the spring, the smiles from fellow humans, friends, family, the banal dangers that come with living, sharks, rabies, viruses, bacteria, and all the bullshit that came with human existence—even taxes, pollution and potholes—deserved a chance to keep going, a chance to keep evolving.

  She dug her nails into Logan’s wrist and hauled him up the embankment, and then w
ith a few more pushes from her slender thighs and dainty but defined calves, she finally reached the crest. She threw herself down on her knees, tightly gripped Logan’s hands and wailed loudly, a release, as if she channeled every single last gasp and breath provided to her by all of mankind. A howl.

  Down on Sunset Boulevard, in the smoke-filled crevice where Israfel resided, the trumpet stood, waiting for one final blow. He plodded along the floor, moisture oozing out of the soles of his elephantine feet like a gargantuan slug made of lips, wings, and doubt. He inhaled and then blew through the mouthpiece. A sound, like an infinite collection of foghorns streaming their tone through the rapid circulations of a particle accelerator in some Swiss Valley, reaped deafness across the land.

  Keelen no longer heard her own screams. Instead, all she felt was the oxygen escaping from her lungs, hot, searing air, and the tearing of capillaries at the back of her throat. The basin in front of her collapsed. The granite, mud, snow, dirt, bushes and trees cratered, and when the dust settled, a caldera spawned, one that almost covered the entire mountain top. The Seraphs that circled the skies above, dive-bombed like a flight of swallows straight into the mountain’s cavity.

  All Keelen mustered was a blank stare as the sky above her opened up revealing a white glow at the center of the gray cloud froth. She then stared down into the abyss and out of the earth, like a rocket, a wide beam of light streamed straight up into the center of the swirling sky. The light boomed hurricane-like winds as it escaped from the mouth of the mountain. Keelen clutched Logan’s body, as one small move could mean falling into the infinite crevice. Behind her, Jrue’s fire raged. It crawled through the forest, morphing into a man-like form. His head peeked above the tree line, a skull of flame, without solidity, all combustion. Keelen felt its heat scald her from behind. Jrue’s rage was at her back, and a blinding, radiating light shooting out from a bottomless pit at her front.

  She felt a hand grip the back of her shirt. It was Adam, crawling from out of the forest bottom. His face was melted, eyes burnt completely off, his teeth visible on the side of his face. With a gentle hand, he laid Cindy’s unconscious body next to Keelen and Logan.

  Keelen checked her pulse. “Cindy?” she yelled, slapping her cheek. “It’s me...can you hear me?”

  Adam slowly stood up and faced Jrue’s flame. “You’ve found us, Father,” he yelled, his voice choking with fluids produced by his drizzled lungs. “All of L.A. is burnt to a crisp. Countless souls for the taking. Take me, Father. Scorch your failure to ash. I am the one who wills to stop the Prophecy. I am the one. I am the traitor.” He then looked toward Keelen and motioned her to duck. Quickly understanding Adam’s intent, she draped herself flat on top of Logan and Cindy.

  Adam took one step back and fell into the precipice. Jrue’s fire roared and thinned into a serpent-like form—reedy, svelte, and streaming. He followed his son into the chasm, into the path of the white, flowing beam. Small bursts of combustion burst out from within the caldera, sputtering the white beam. Keelen, who felt the sparks of Jrue’s tail as she ducked, peeked over the ledge. Adam, while suspended in air, was snaked and coiled by Jrue’s flame. Their flames scorched the inner lining of the caldera, which was made of a charcoal-like substance, and created plumes of gas that rose out from the crater, and once exposed to the air outside, turned to glass.

  Incredibly, the hole at the center of Mount San Antonio slowly became covered with a thick glass-like substance. The heat subsided. The snowfall continued without interruption. Keelen bent down and spoke into Cindy’s ear, as she reclined almost motionless, but still breathing. “Cindy, wake up. I’m at the top. What do I do?”

  The clouds above still spun, a white-hot center still peeking bright light toward the Earth below. She noticed pieces of paper sticking out of Logan’s pockets. She pulled them out. They were the remaining last pages of the Apocryphon.

  “Why would you do this?” she yelled, angrily, but quickly composed herself realizing there was no point.

  She examined the pages in a panic. One of them had a picture of a man suspended in air over a mountain, the sun directly over his head. She then put the pages in her own pocket and, acting on a hunch brought about by adrenaline and panic, she dragged Logan’s body across the glass floor toward the center of the caldera. She stared down into the darkness, through the clear covering, and could see Adam descending into the darkness, with Jrue still wrapped around his body. Seraphs would fly toward the glass from below, smashing their faces against it, flashing their tiny teeth in anger, confusion. Hundreds of blobs of light would hit the glass and dissipate, and then hit the glass again—there was something eerie about the lights.

  Keelen got on her knees and inspected the lights as they tapped the glass with their heads and then with their tails. Shocked and mortified, Keelen noticed human faces on them as they propelled themselves, trying their hardest to break through.

  “Souls, they must be souls,” Keelen said to herself. Then, a few yards away, one of the blobs pinned itself against the glass. It propelled its tail faster than the other lights, expressing extraordinary will. Keelen dragged Logan toward the thrashing white blob, and to her astonishment and a sudden feeling of sadness and loss, she recognized the face. It was Matt’s.

  She pounded on the surface, but it was harder than anything she’d ever laid her hands on. The texture of the crystal layer was supernatural in strength. She slammed the glass with her fist again and screamed. Matt made eye contact with her one more time before he was surrounded by thousands and thousands of light blobs with human faces, all connecting with Keelen’s eyes, overwhelming her with fear and despair.

  She screamed.

  Keelen dragged Logan’s body to the basin’s glass-covered middle. There was nowhere to go. She purposely turned her eyes away from the panicked stares of the humanoid faces below. They scared her.

  Giving in to exhaustion and dehydration, she curled next to Logan’s body and closed her eyes. “What am I supposed to do?” she breathed. “I need you back. I need a miracle.”

  Chapter Forty-one:

  The Calm Before the Reform

  The smell of scorched earth and wood assaulted Keelen’s sense of smell while she lay on top of Logan’s cool body.

  Half-awake, with eyes closed, the scent reminded her of an outdoor hardware store, which was pleasant at first, but once she remembered what had occurred, she realized that it was in fact the smell of death and destruction.

  She grimaced and turned her body. Her right shoulder was still dislocated.

  As her back faced the smoldering ruins of a once imperious city, something tapped her back, then ran up and brushed the exposed skin on her neck. Keelen swiped at the touch as if it were a gnat or mosquito. “Leave me alone,” she said. Another tap followed, this time much harder. Keelen rolled on her back and opened her eyes, expecting a wayward deer or coyote, but instead, the underside of Cindy’s smirched chin popped into her field of view.

  Cindy threw herself onto Keelen’s chest, squeezing her, reminding herself and her friend what human touch still felt like.

  Keelen wiped the tears away from Cindy’s cheeks and asked, “Are you all right?”

  Cindy nodded. “I think so,” she said, her face twisted in a half-smile, lips quivering. “I just remember Adam’s arms over me, lifting me. The creatures were tearing him up, Keelen. I lost Paolo. I don’t know where he went.” She then lost composure and sobbed uncontrollably on Keelen’s shoulder.

  Keelen sat up and held Cindy in her arms and eyed the chasm underneath the glass. It was black as night. No sign of Adam or Jrue or the spheres that floated to the surface.

  “I saw him. He looked right at me.”

  “Who?” Cindy asked.

  “Matt.”

  “Where?”

  “He was underneath this floor, trying to escape. I saw his face. He was inside some sphere. He looked scared.”

  “Are you sure it was him?” Cindy asked.

  “The look
in his eyes was the same one he always had before entering the ring—a moment of fear, before he would focus his mind. He was right here, and then he was swallowed up by all these faces that stared at me. They were like koi fish as they swam up to me, bright white balls with faces, all pleading with me. It was horrible! I can’t shake their pleading looks. I lost Matt,” she said, tearing up.

  Cindy gazed down into the hole. “What do you think they were?”

  “It was his soul, Cindy. They were souls. That hole up in the sky—that is where they were going. To Caeli.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Stay put,” Keelen said, handing Cindy the torn pages of the Apocryphon. “There’s not much of a choice, is there?”

  “Where’d you find these?”

  “Logan had them.”

  “When and where and why did he tear these out of the book?”

  “I don’t know. I think he tore them out just in case you lost that book or had it taken away. I hope.”

  Cindy sat on the glass surface, examined the pages for a brief moment, and put her head between her knees. “I feel so weak.”

  “Me, too,” said Keelen, her eyes dimming. Groggy. “Maybe someone will find us.”

  The scorched remains of trees and blackened rock faces covered the endless landscape toward the ridge. Smoke had blanketed the city from view.

  A calm wind rustled the carbonized leaves and the toasted remains of nature’s former splendor, but no other sound could be heard. Just the two girls, huddled close together, repelling the cold and fear of the unknown.

  They closed their eyes, synchronized their breathing, and rested, hoping they’d drown out the desolation with much needed rest.

  —oOo—

  A day passed. It was uneventful. Sirens could be heard down the mountain. Keelen and Cindy slept through them as they snored on top of each other for eighteen hours straight. Logan’s corpse began to bloat. His dead skin tanned.