Suddenly the Count bellowed at them, "You are mine, Israelites, mine to set free, mine to control and mine to kill." He let Mordechai’s body slump down into the saddle. "I never set you free, so now you will die" he roared into the night.
The Count let Mordechai’s body slide down from the horse and made to spring over to Stephanie who had also watched the scene in rapt horror.
Suddenly the horse under the Count jinked up from behind and the tail-end explosively burst outwards. Limbs and flesh splayed out in the blast and it took Reuben only a split second to realise that the beast had been hit by an anti-tank rocket from behind.
The Count was thrown against a tree, giving Reuben and Stephanie valuable seconds to get away. He stood up immediately and turned in the direction of the fleeing pair.
Reuben looked behind. The Count was two hundred meters away, and if he wanted to, he could have caught up with them. Their eyes locked and in that brief moment Reuben realised that the Count wasn’t going to give chase.
He could clearly see the Count’s face, lit up not by the fires of war but by the inescapable rise of the early morning sun. He faced the horizon and grinned as the soft red strand of dawn kissed the twilight clouds.
"”We’ve made it!" he shouted over his shoulder. "The sun, the sun has saved us!”
He stopped his horse and Stephanie’s automatically halted next to him. They turned in unison to see that the vampires were gone.
The soldiers who had shot at them lay sprawled on both sides of the track. They were Russian, not as many as he’d thought, and Reuben guessed they were the vanguard of the main advance.
"Shall we see if any survived?" Stephanie finally broke her shocked silence.
"No, let’s get out of here. The main force will come soon and I don’t want to have to answer for this.”
"But we can’t just leave them, that’s … ”
Reuben butted in, "Listen, a lot of Russians died here tonight and there will be a scapegoat needed for the official report. We will be the scapegoats if we’re caught here. They’ll pin this on a partisan ambush and we’ll be labelled as partisans, and tried and summarily executed as such.”
”You don’t know that, though. How can you be so sure?" She started to move her horse towards the area where the massacre had taken place.
"You stay here, then. I’m going.” He turned his horse to ride away, stopped and said over his shoulder, " … and I’ll tell you why I can be so sure. The Russian system is just as unfair and corrupt as the German one. It’s run on fear and distrust, and what starts at the top is magnified as it slides down through the classes. Dictators incite men to do terrible things to save their own skin.”
Then wordlessly he cantered off.
Stephanie surveyed the undergrowth in the fledgling light. Severed limbs, trees splattered with blood, the carnage assaulted her senses and she felt a tremor of insanity flit through her.
From out of the foliage, a vampire crawled out into the path. One arm hacked off at the elbow, both legs blown off at the mid-thigh. He could no longer escape the sun’s merciless eye and as he slithered snakelike on the ground. He smouldered.
She lifted her hands to shield herself from the heat as it finally burst into flames in the middle of the path. The hissing of its flesh and the terrified mewling sickened her so that she rammed her fist to her mouth to silence her revulsion. As his eyes popped with the heat, she gave up the struggle and screamed her horror.
The scream lasted a lifetime but was over in a minute, and it left her empty and wretched, mutely staring at the fiery death.
She watched patiently as it burnt to ashes, her initial terror mutating into something far darker; a bitter hope that this was one of the monsters who had killed her boy. She felt neither hatred nor pity, only the hollow sadness of a grieving mother searching for a vague answer for the murder of her child.
When it was gone and the cinders were finally carried off into the wood, she looked around as if waking from a dream. The loneliness chilled her and she realised that Reuben had been right, that to stay here was madness. She could do nothing here - there weren’t any survivors.
A bird called harshly and the sudden break in the silence ended her trance. She knew she had to be away from this place and quickly. A gathering panic threatened to engulf her and, with a stifled sob, she dashed after Reuben to salvage her self-control and focus.
Reuben wasn’t very far away. He’d been dawdling in the hope that Stephanie would come to her senses. No words were spoken when she finally pulled up to his side. They were an age apart but her companionship would, he knew, keep him from dwelling on Mordechai’s death. They’d both gotten very accomplished at denying grief.
The trees opened before them as the path widened and Reuben broke their reverie when he saw a gap in the treeline ahead of them.
"I think that’s the end of the forest."
"What then? Shall we have a rest?" she asked absently.
Reuben was about to answer when a loud click cut through the wood. It was echoed by another as a soldier stood out in the middle of the path. Reuben held up his hands and went to slide down from his horse. The soldier approached them, all the while holding a rifle towards him.
Reuben cocked a leg over the pommel of the saddle and moved to unhinge his foot from the stirrup when the Russian pulled him down to the ground. Reuben hit the floor on his back and his eyes glazed over as the wind raced out of him.
Laughing, the Russian put his boot on Reuben’s chest as he called to his comrades,
"Tell me what you do to Russian spies and I’ll tell you what we do to German spies.”
The wood around them erupted with Red Army uniforms and Stephanie fell from her saddle in a dead faint.
Chapter 48
Transylvania
September
She screamed against the gag with all her strength, pulling at the cords that bound her to the vampire’s sarcophagus. Naked, sweat-drenched in fear, with her legs splayed to help the delivery, Iullia was being attended to by Maria while the Count looked on. Marik held guard at the arch that served as a doorway into the room, barring the vampire entourage that followed the Dracyl wherever he went.
The Count found Iullia's panic stimulating and could hardly contain his pleasure at her degradation and dread.
"Scream, girl, scream and beg me for your life!" he snarled excitedly as the vampires hissed their pleasure.
Maria ignored him and moved to sooth Iullia. The struggling would be bad for the child. She was now fully restored to her early beauty thanks to the fact that Lilith's essence had left Iullia the moment the bindings had been tied tight.
There had been a moment of confusion for Iullia as the demon had left her to return to Maria’s withered coil. However, it had soon passed as she understood her predicament and had reacted by feverishly reciting the Lord’s Prayer repeatedly.
"Gag her!” the Dracyl commanded.
Maria was prepared as this wasn’t her first birthing and bound her mouth accordingly. That was when the screaming started.
They were ready, the crypt lit with just enough candles to see by, Marik on guard and the blade and blankets on hand. All that was missing was the Book of Blood but Maria wasn’t too concerned about that for she wanted the birthing ceremony to go awry.
The Dracyl held the sword, the fatal cut to be dealt as Maria slashed the umbilical cord. The timing was as important as the tradition itself.
He was as nervous as he was excited and he went over the details with Maria over and over again. It was getting tiresome but she didn’t want him to think that she had other plans for how the black nativity would be carried out.
Maria was crouched and busy between Iullia's open thighs, a spasm gripped Iullia and she involuntarily pushed.
"I see it," Maria cried over the girl’s gagged wails, "I see a head, the top of his head.”
Once again the vampire’s hissing crescendoed in anticipation.
The Dracyl gripped
the sword, his exhilaration almost a tangible force that electrified the crypt.
"It’s coming, his hair is black; black like yours, Master.”
Marik shuffled forward to look, shadowed by the inquisitive vampires, but the Count glared them back to the doorway.
"Tell me what’s happening,” he demanded.
"All will be well, Master. The end is in sight. Now push, girl, push.”
* * *
Rasch awoke and sat bolt upright in one movement. He’d heard his name being called. Iullia had called him he was sure. He turned to get out of bed but froze as he heard his name being called again. Putting on his glasses, he stood trying to discern where the sound was coming from. It took a moment to realise that the voice was in his head. What was more disturbing, though, was the tone of panic in Iullia's appeal.
Hurriedly pulling on his uniform, he looked around for a weapon of sorts. There was nothing and he dashed out into the corridor to find Iullia. He flew down the stairs, ever more panicked by the note of urgency that was intensifying steadily in her pleadings.
"I’m coming, I’m coming, Schatzi," he muttered to himself in answer.
"Ernst, help me, I’m in the crypt," the voice dictated. "In the crypt, I need your help. Oh Ernst, I need you now, hurry … ”
Rasch knew where the crypt entrance was but he had never had any wish to go down there. This time it was different. He wrenched the door open and sprinted into the black void below, blundering through the pitch blackness, seeing nothing and hearing only Iullia's summons.
* * *
Another spasm shuddered though her as she wept for God’s mercy to bring an end to her pain and misery. The realisation that she was the vessel for something as unholy as the Dracyl’s offspring pained her as much as her physical torment. She hoped that God could forgive her weakness when His judgement was upon her.
She had been cognisant of what Lilith had done with her body the whole time. She also knew the fate that awaited her when the time came to cut the umbilical cord.
In her mind she recited the Lord’s Prayer over and over as the only means she had of striking back against all that had been done against her. Another contraction scored through her as her body betrayed her to the Dracyl. She could feel the head pushing out of her, stretching her flesh until she felt it would rip and tear. She panicked at the strain and she vaguely wondered who was screaming in the background. It came as a shock when she realised it was her.
Her screaming climaxed and stopped as her flesh finally gave way and tore. The pain was momentarily blinding but the relief at the widening of her entrance helped focus her mind. She knew that these were her final moments on God’s earth and her dread faded as she saw the Count lift the sword above his head. She knew the end was nigh and her heart swelled as she recited her mantra into death’s cold embrace,
"Pater Noster, qui es in caelis … ”
* * *
Maria slipped a finger in to ease the shoulders into position. The head, bloodied and creased, was out but the shoulders were stuck. The small body turned easily and Maria let her curiosity overtake her, peeking over her shoulder to the doorway. "Where is he?" she wondered absent-mindedly.
She looked up to the Count who stood ready to plunge the sword down on the girl’s neck.
"Where is he?" she thought again, with more force this time. She knew he was near. She had been calling him to come and he had answered, but she didn’t want to let it show that she was waiting for him.
"What’s the problem, Demon?” the Count demanded. "Why do you peer over your shoulder so?”
"Nothing! Your vampires irritate me with their chatter and the shoulders are in the wrong position. He won’t come out.”
"Then cut her so he does!"
She nodded wordlessly and pulled out a small knife. She pretended to make an incision; playing for time.
"Cut her now!” the Dracyl roared, his vampires echoing his rage. The force of their anger shuddered Iullia into another contraction and the child slipped out into Maria’s waiting hands.
She held him and smiled at the Count, "Your son, Master.”
"Cut the cord,” he snarled, hefting the weighty sword.
She hesitated at the command. Where was Rasch? He should be here by now.
"Cut the cord."
She lifted the knife up to the connecting thread of tissue and looked to Iullia. Their eyes met and a moment of comprehension, of misery, of victory passed between them. Then Iullia closed her lids and looked away to bare her neck. The crypt was silent. Nothing moved or breathed as they waited for the fateful cut.
Knife in hand, Maria turned to the Count to synchronise the cutting. She nodded to him and was about to give the go-ahead when Rasch burst out from behind her.
Like an express train through a curtain of black, he erupted through the onlooking vampires. Marik was on him in a flash but the frantic doctor evaded him and ran straight for the astonished Count.
"No, no, no!" he screamed as he reached for the sword. Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he stopped dead in his tracks. He stood in front of the Count, looking down at his midriff, looking down at the sword protruding from his gut.
In the blink of a mortal eye, the Count had turned the blade onto Rasch’s charging form and the edge had slid into him hungrily. Blood gushed out from the wound and he turned to look down at the shocked Iullia.
"My love … " was all he managed to say before falling to the ground in the pool of his own murder.
The Count bent down to pull the sword and Maria took her chance. She slit the umbilical cord and held the two pieces up so the Count would see it as he straightened up.
"What have you done?" he bellowed when he saw her with the cut thread. "What have you done?" he roared even louder. His body started to swell in his anger and the fine lines of his face distorted as they grew. Maria stood mute and trembling in front of him. She had foreseen this but her fear was genuine as she witnessed his rapidly swelling body.
"At the same time," he screamed in his fury, "they must be cut at the same time. The bond to the mother is cut as the mother’s bond to this world is cut, as it’s written in the Book." He was breathing heavily as his rage rapidly overtook him. Behind him the vampires howled their outrage. "It’s in the Book, Demon," he thundered again, drowning out their discord.
"I thought we were ready," she stammered. "I cut it as he came in. You saw what happened. Why didn’t Marik stop him?” She looked accusingly at the wolfman.
He paused for a minute and turned to the already cowering werewolf. In his dread he was already half changed into a wolf and was openly salivating as he whined. He slammed the sword down on the ground and snarled at Marik, "Come here, dog!”
Marik whimpered as he drew nearer to the Count who grabbed him and threw him against the wall like a toy. The soldiers watched in gloating silence, sniggering at the beast’s terror. Marik scrambled to his feet and ran through their ranks, howling into the darkness, naked fear overriding any thought of obeying the Count.
The Count looked at the arch that led into the black passageway beyond. Maria saw that he was starting to shrink back to normal and inwardly sighed in relief. She had some of her power back but if the Dracyl had killed her, she would have become a wandering spirit again for the next couple of millennia.
"And now, Demon, will this affect the ceremony in December?” He was calm, his anger spent on the rock of his own ignorance. "Will we save the ritual if we kill her now?”
Maria looked to Iullia, her mind racing. This was too good to be true; keep the girl alive and the rite must surely be blighted.
"Answer me, Demon, I need to know.”
"The ceremony will not be unbalanced. Your heir and the tenth name in the Book is born. I see no reason to kill the girl. She could be useful in rearing him.” She waited on his decision with bated breath.
"Then so be it,” he said and left the crypt.
Iullia screamed her comprehension and anguish from behind her
gag and the vampires whispered their glee.
Chapter 49
Wewelsburg Castle
They sat alone at the huge banqueting table with empty glasses and a haze of resentment above them.
"You never questioned my judgement at Marienberg, so why now Michael?” Czerolka snapped, "If I hadn’t believed in what I deduced from the Book, do you think I would have made my way here on my own?”
“I don’t doubt your conviction in your conclusions but I don’t understand the reasoning behind the number ten. Your reasons for picking just ten men seem doubtful to say the least.”
"My reasons were not deduced in five minutes. I spent a long time deciphering the script and working out the best way of destroying the Dracyl. My reasoning was and is solid enough. What are you worrying about? Do you think I want the Dracyl to win, is that it?" he frowned and tapped the table with his knuckles in vexation.
"No, of course not, but why only the ten men? You could have easily have said twelve for the twelve apostles, or five thousand for the feeding of the five thousand because that bears about as much parallel to the Book of Blood as the ten good men of Sodom and Gomorrah!”
"Pah, you’re wasting my time with these stupid, infantile questions!” Czerolka stood up to leave but Michael grasped his arm. "Tell me, old man,” he stared him in the eye, "tell me that you have no doubt that ten men will beat the Dracyl. If you tell me that you are one hundred percent sure of this, I will gladly follow your instructions to the letter." Czerolka made to jerk his arm away but Michael gripped tighter. "But you look me in the eye when you say it, Librarian, because I sense fear behind your anger.”
The old man’s eyes flared in aggravation and he unthinkingly raised his free arm to strike down, but the fight left his eye and he fell back on his chair with a sigh. "What do you want to hear from me, Michael?” he asked after a short while. "Do you wish to hear how many hours I pored over its ancient texts until my sight was dimmed with fatigue? Do you want to hear how I turned our library upside down in my quest to find a key to fight this unholy abomination? Or do you want to hear how I was nearly cast out from the Order of Dobrzyn, from the order that I have faithfully served all my life, because my answers were not the answers our superiors wanted to hear?” Czerolka’s voice caught in his throat and Michael looked down at the table. "Michael, the Order is dead. The Order that once fought all manner of anti-Christ is now a sorry pack of sycophants and functionaries. That is why I came here, to find the only man I know in the Order who was ready to do battle to save humankind.” He shook his head slowly and cackled softly to himself. Michael waited for him to continue, "The irony is that the only man I felt I could trust with the Book of Blood sits before me and questions my judgement on the biggest spiritual upheaval since Calvary.” He carried on softly laughing to himself and stopped gradually to look Michael in the eye, "You want me to guarantee victory and yet I cannot find it in me to lie to you, Michael, because I do have my doubts. Ten men seems an absurd number to send against an army, I know. Why not a hundred, a thousand even?" He raised his eyes to the ceiling and back again. "All I can give you is that in my heart of hearts I am sure it is right that we should mirror the Book of Blood with our own numbers. We need to be able to match the names in the Book with souls of our own. They may have a vampire army but the bloodsuckers are not the threat. The Dracyl is already finished anyway. He needs the ten names in the Book to complete his cycle and you already have one of his, the Englishman. The tree will negate the vampire’s speed and strength, and your faith and skills with the swords will carry the day against them. It is Lilith who’s the real threat. She wants to enter the tree and thus break the curse and return to the old ways. If one man falls and you are only nine, she will succeed in her quest. She will then be the ruler of a vampire epidemic of pre-biblical proportions because the Dracyl will be a spent force. Hold out until daybreak and the battle is won. Fail and hell will let slip its bloody hounds. That is all I can give you.”
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