The video was almost over, mere seconds remaining. I couldn’t bear to keep watching, but I also couldn’t tear my gaze from the screen.
“I’ve seen you go from a frightened little boy to the man you are today. And even though I bust your chops from time to time, I couldn’t be prouder of the man you’ve become. I never had children of my own, but if I had…”
I killed the video and forcefully wiped away a tear from my eye. I did what I always did when my emotions boiled over: I turned the pain into anger.
“What a crock of shit, old man! We are supposed to be a team, god damn it! You don’t go off drinking vampire blood without at least talking to me first.”
Just like I should have talked to him before I went to the wrecking yard. I gnashed my teeth, considering my options. There had to be a way out of this. I just needed to think…
My cell chirped. The incoming Facetime message was from none other than my partner. Taking a deep breath, I answered the call and my blood turned to ice. The crazed beast glaring back at me couldn’t be Skulick. It shared little in common with the calm, calculating demon hunter I knew. The skin was marble, the eyes slitted and tinted scarlet. And then there were the fangs.
My breath hitched. Seeing him like this was worse than anything I could have imagined.
But wait. If Skulick had already gone over to the dark side, consumed by blood lust, then who was sending me the video?
Heavy silver chains bound my mentor. The camera pulled back, revealing a large crane inside the by now familiar wrecking yard. A cable extended from the arm of the crane, one hooked end attached to Skulick’s shackled form.
A pneumatic hiss sounded, and the crane lifted Skulick’s writhing form into the air. The camera pulled further back until I only saw a small shape struggling twenty feet off the ground.
An all-too-familiar voice spoke from offscreen. “Right now, Detective Skulick may be feeling a little uncomfortable. But things will get a lot worse once the sun rises. You’ve destroyed enough of us to know what’s in store for your partner. And once I’m done with him, dear little Archer will be next.”
Marek’s monstrous presence filled the phone’s screen as he turned it to face him. He held up the stake known as the Bloodslayer, and despair gripped me. It dawned on me that Marek had wanted this from the start. That’s why I had been spared—to draw Skulick into a direct confrontation with the master vampire. Assuming that Marek had also gotten his hands on the Medal of Saints, the bastard now had two of our most powerful defenses against the undead.
“What do you want from me?” I growled.
“I want what is rightfully mine. Bring me the chalice before sunrise, or the people you care most about will perish in a fiery blaze.”
The cell’s screen went dark. I don’t know for how long I just stood there, staring into space. Eventually, I picked up the chalice. Moonlight seeped in from the skylight above and played across its intricately adorned surface. Only a few drops of the master vampire’s blood remained in the cup.
I couldn’t give it to him. I couldn’t hand Marek a relic that would allow him to turn thousands of innocent people into bloodthirsty monsters. Neither Skulick nor Archer would want that. But I couldn’t let my friends die either.
Besides refusing to deliver the chalice would not be the end of it. Marek would try to take the artifact by force. Despite our base’s protective wards and runes, I held no illusion that the loft was a safe haven. Somehow, Marek would find a way to get what he wanted.
My grip tightened around the cup in my hand and it required all my will power not to hurl the cursed relic out of the window.
God, how I wished I had never laid eyes on the damn thing. I wished I could go back in time and stop myself from ever entering the vault on that fateful night. One bad decision had set the current chain of events in motion. No matter what I did now, the two people I cared about the most in this world were doomed.
A wailing alarm cut through the loft. Someone was attempting to breach our perimeter.
That was quick, I thought, dragging my mind back to the present.
Had Marek’s phone call been nothing but an elaborate distraction? Were the members of his unholy clan already here, ready to burst into our base and take what they wanted by force?
I moved toward Skulick’s desk and switched on the bank of CCTV monitors. Eight cams offered a comprehensive view of the surrounding streets and various entrance points to the loft. I almost let out a sigh of relief when I spotted the intruder who had set off the screeching alarm. It was Cyon.
I never thought I would be in such dire straits that I’d be happy to see a demon on my doorstep.
He looked up at the camera as if he knew I was watching him. Who was I kidding? Of course he knew. I switched on the audio. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought you might finally be ready to reconsider my offer. I can help you stop Marek, Raven, and save your friends.”
I considered Cyon’s offer. And that’s when a crazy idea occurred to me. There might be a way to turn the table on Marek. It would be risky but it was my best shot at defeating the vampire demon and saving my friends. But I would need help to pull this off.
The help of a demon.
“Let’s talk” I said.
As Cyon flashed me a smile through the surveillance camera, I couldn’t help but feel like I was about to make a deal with the devil himself.
16
A cold wind whipped down the abandoned city streets as I hurtled through the night on my black Ducati. The promise of imminent rainfall filled the air. I’d traded my trench coat for a motorcycle jacket, but it felt strange to go into battle without my usual armor. I was ready to face Marek. Cyon and I had hashed out a plan that might be crazy enough to work. Only time would tell.
Lightning split the sky, illuminating the wrecking yard up ahead. Stacks of cars grew visible behind the chain link fence, the Cursed City’s imposing skyline glittering in the near distance.
From this angle, I could make out two of the occult skyscrapers where the demons had been sacrificed. The tall towers now glowed with a spectral, pulsating light. This unnatural glow was only visible to people with a sixth sense like myself. Judging by the many new messages in my voice mail, most of my psychic friends in the city had picked up on the activity too.
Joe Cormac, who had helped me a few weeks earlier, was among the callers. I had barely spoken with the Gulf War vet turned ghost hunter since my battle with Engelman’s spirit at Blackwell Penitentiary. I promised myself to call him back—if I should be lucky enough to survive the night.
I wasn’t enthusiastic about my chances. Especially with Cyon as my only backup.
As my bike screamed through the open front gate, I couldn’t help but notice how much had changed in the last twenty-four hours. There was no more sneaking around. Marek knew I was coming, the open gate a clear invitation to join the party. The bag with the chalice rested heavily against my body. It felt like at least fifty pounds of dead weight was digging into my shoulder.
Weirdly enough, the cup seemed to have grown heavier as I drew closer to the wrecking yard. All too soon the relic would be reunited with its dark master. Thinking of the horrors Marek hoped to unleash with the help of the chalice made me shiver. Above the glittering metropolis, forks of lightning illuminated the approaching cloud bank.
A storm was closing in, just as Marek had promised.
I slowed my approach as my bike zeroed in on the center of the junkyard. Moving shadows and whispers filled the darkness. A circle of hooded figures had gathered around the massive, templelike car crusher. Flashing lightning revealed Marek’s winged, gargoyle-like form atop the compactor. I didn’t have to see Marek’s monstrous features to feel his sense of triumph. The son of the monster hunter who’d tried to kill him thirty years earlier was about to hand him the key to the vampire apocalypse.
My cycle sputtered to a halt, and I removed my helmet. Icy air bit my face as the storm gathered stre
ngth above us. I wondered if the weather was the result of the black magic pulsing off the skyscrapers. Bursts of paranormal energy were already leaking into the atmosphere.
Scanning the area, I found my partner. He still hung from a steel cable attached to a nearby crane, chains wrapped around his dangling form. My heart sank as my gaze found his face. Little of the man who had been like a father to me remained. In place of Skulick’s cool intellect, there was only animalistic, snarling hunger.
Shaken, my grip tightened around the duffel bag. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I eyed the congregation of vampires. Was I a fool for giving Marek the magical cup? Was I about to hand over the launch codes to Hell’s most dangerous weapon? But looking up at Skulick’s struggling form reminded me why I was here. And I did have plan. A crazy plan but a plan nonetheless. There was still a chance of saving the people I cared about the most, and I planned to seize it.
With a renewed sense of determination, I advanced toward the crusher, the bag with the chalice held high.
Marek’s voice rose over the wind. “Son of Richard, have you brought the cup?”
I answered the question by snapping open the satchel and removing the golden grail. I held it up high, the relic bathed in moonlight and lightning, allowing all the vampires gathered around to see it. A murmur of excitement passed through the crowd.
Unable to control his eagerness, Marek dove from the crusher and swooped toward me, wings extended. A beat later, his massive form slammed into the ground before me, the impact of his landing sending up clouds of dust. I stifled a cough, unwilling to show any form of weakness in front of the vampire-demon hybrid.
“Hand me what is rightfully mine,” Marek hissed.
There was one last beat of hesitation before I handed the vampire-demon the cup.. Marek regarded me coolly.
“Your father tried to kill me thirty years ago. But I managed to outlive him.” The monstrous creature took a step toward me. “You want to know what my greatest regret is? That I didn’t get to kill him myself. I will have to settle for you, his son.”
I stood my ground. “My father believed he killed you thirty years ago. How did you survive?”
Instead of providing a verbal answer, Marek‘s clawed hand brushed against me. A primal sensation of revulsion filled my entire being. Then, the world around me changed in a metaphysical flash.
I found myself on a bridge shrouded in fog, running for my life. Despite my punishing pace, my heart wasn’t pounding in my chest. In fact, there was no heartbeat. I wasn’t breathing, either. Blood oozed from my chest. Black blood. I took note at the ghostly pallor of my hands before I shifted my attention to the oncoming footsteps. A figure was tearing after me, lethal determination in his eyes. He was wearing a trench coat, a green glowing pistol in his right hand. Hellseeker, I realized. For a split second, I felt like I was looking into a mirror. Then it dawned on me. This was my dad, and that could only mean...
The brief physical contact with the vampire-demon had triggered a vision of the past. Of course. I was reliving Marek’s encounter with my father thirty years ago. I was inside his memory, a silent spectator of the past. I’d experienced something similar before, when a maddened ghost had trapped me in the memories of her death.
The world slowed to a crawl as my father fired at me…no, at Marek. Bullets tore into me, a pain beyond anything I’d ever experienced. I saw my limbs shrivel up and wither as I was propelled by the impact against the bridge’s steel railing.
In an act of desperation, I flung myself over the side. I fell for what seemed like an eternity, the eighty feet between the bridge and the river below stretching out endlessly. My flailing body cut through the night, trailing fire and ash.
When I hit the choppy water, the impact rattled every bone in my body. The agony triggered by the blessed bullets consumed my nerve endings. The freezing water enveloped me, and the world above vanished.
The surface grew dimmer as my dying body sank to the bottom of the river in a cloud of black blood. I was gravely wounded but still clinging to life. It would have been easy to let the darkness swallow me whole, but something stopped me from letting go.
Hatred.
Hatred for the two brazen mortals who’d hunted me down like prey. By the time reached the bottom, I was a cadaverous shadow of my former self…yet I was still alive. I refused to die.
Years passed.
Decades.
Time ceased to have meaning. But the hatred continued to burn bright.
And then one day…
A violent ripple above me drew my attention, followed by a rush of movement.
A shape shot toward me through the dark depths of the river. It was a woman. She was in bad shape, her heartbeat faint. Already near death from the impact of the fall. I sensed desperation and fear in her dying mind. She had willingly hurled herself off the bridge in the hopes of ending her pathetic existence. But her suicide attempt hadn’t been completely successful. Even though her soul craved oblivion, her body still clung to life.
She wanted to die, and I wanted to live. Soon, both our wishes would come true.
She was so close. As long as her heart hammered, pumping blood through her dying system, I could still feed on her.
I sprang like a cobra, my skeletal hand closing around her neck. There was a moment of horror as her eyes snapped open. I could hear her thoughts. She already believed herself to be dead. Believed me to be a demon greeting her on her way to Hell. Emotions cascaded through her mind. Guilt, regret, and terror. Too late for second thoughts…
My fangs found the soft skin of her throat, the life pulsating within it. And then the water turned red… and pain gave way to ecstasy as I fed for the first time in decades. Life returned to my shriveled limbs. I had waited, conserved my energy, allowed myself to heal. I was finally ready to return to the surface. Return to the world. And as the last drop of life left the woman’s body and her eyes grew dull, I could feel the old power surging through me.
I was still too weak to reveal myself to my enemies. I would keep feeding, growing stronger and gathering a tribe.The centuries had taught me the value of patience. What was one more year after spending decades at the bottom of the river?
I was back.
Let the world beware.
I recoiled from Marek, my body shaking as if I’d been doused with freezing cold water. The memory had been so raw and vivid. For a brief moment, I’d become Marek. I’d experienced the world through the monster’s mind.
“Now you finally understand my pain, Raven,” he said knowingly. “My rage. My need for vengeance.”
Lightning forked, splitting the sky from one end to another, filling the air with electricity. The hungry anticipation in the crowd of vampires was growing.
Wary, spent from the flashback Marek had shared with me, I took a step back. My gaze combed the crowd of vampire onlookers and found the person I was looking for. Archer met my questing gaze with icy indifference. The two people I cared about the most in the world were less than twenty feet away from me, yet I’d never felt so alone in my life. Even when my parents had died, there had been Skulick’s soothing presence. Not any longer.
Time to grow up, kid.
My attention turned back to Marek. I watched in silent horror as he slashed his own wrists. Black blood seeped from the pale flesh, dripping into the chalice. Why hadn’t he struck me down yet? After all, my father had nearly condemned him to a watery grave. Only one explanation could explain my stay of execution. The master vampire wanted me to witness his greatest triumph before he finished me off. Simply striking me down would be way too fast. Marek wanted to draw out my pain, deepen my sense of defeat. I balled my hands into fists, helplessness turning into simmering rage.
Another bolt of sizzling electricity split the darkness, strobing Marek in its eerie glow. The vampire-demon hybrid uttered a series of words in a language I’ve never encountered before as he raised the chalice toward the sky.
I remembered Skulick mention
ing the existence of an ancient vampire tongue. It had been spoken centuries in the past when vampires ruled certain medieval kingdoms in Eastern Europe. Records of these terrible times were fragmented, believed to be myths and and shrouded in mystery. Whatever ritual Marek was setting into motion now, must have been born during that horrible age of darkness.
I struggled to fight back my growing doubts. How could I hope to defeat this monster with only a broken demon in my corner?
A clap of thunder shattered the silence as lightning struck the chalice.
At the exact same moment, more bolts speared the night. They extended like electrical tentacles toward the occult skyscrapers, connecting the three buildings with the chalice. Marek’s vampiric blood had become part of the flow of paranormal energy.
Hell’s super-weapon was active.
Above us, the lightning intensified, and the churning black storm clouds started to change. At first it was subtle, but the change picked up momentum fast. The sky was taking on a fiery red hue. Almost as if Marek’s blood had infected the storm.
And then the first fat rain drop hit my face. More followed. It was raining, but this was no ordinary downpour. I touched my face and then looked at my hands. They were slick with a sticky, scarlet liquid.
The full horror of what was happening sunk in.
It was raining blood.
17
A drop of rain hit my lips and I tasted copper—real blood was pelting down.
It was painting the world scarlet, soaking the ground and streaking down the jagged mountains of junked cars. Everything was red.
Screaming sirens bashed the air. Four police cruisers were tearing toward the crowd of vampires, flashes of blue in the red downpour. A beat later, the cop cars came to a grinding halt, tires spewing bloody gravel, and spat out unformed officers wielding shotguns and pistols.
Blood Rain (Shadow Detective Book 3) Page 10