What powers the guns?
I assumed it was a bullet, but if Luka asked the question, he must’ve observed something. “Was does the gun use as ammunition?”
“Not standard bullets, that is for sure,” Perun boasted.
“Perun, did you weave a rune into the barrel?”
“Well observed, vitch. The vorld is full of all sorts of mystic energy. I learned this one from vise man in north.”
I flipped open the cylinder and saw five slugs left in. “Are these bronze?” I asked, almost recognizing the coloration.
“A mix of copper and bronze, veighted with silver core. Standard bullets vork, but not as vell as Perun’s calculated design.”
I placed the gun back in beside its brother. “What did I do to deserve such a gift?”
“Vitch tell me you cowboy and need cowboy veapon. Plus, it is my vay of apologizing for deception,” he admitted. “I knew you vere Brinza and I pretended not to. I hoped you and vitch vould valk away, but you persisted.”
“You’re scared,” Cassie said rather bluntly. It caught me a tad by surprise.
“I am not scared,” Perun shot back.
But it made sense. He wanted us to leave as he was perfectly happy living a life off the grid, not being a part of what was going on in the world today. “You preferred to be isolated.”
“It is true, Castor. Last time I vas involved; bad things happened.”
The pieces began to fall into place. “Was that your time with Denis Brinza?”
“Let me tell you a story, one that involves both sides of your family. Maybe vonce story has been told, you vill have more answers and less questions.”
**Moldavia; 1721 the year of our Lord**
“I do not know why you are wasting your time, Denis.”
“The Lord sent him here, old friend. We will not turn him away.”
Denis Brinza and Vlad’s brother, Radu, were arguing about whether they could trust me or not. I realized my sudden appearance was reason for both to give pause, but the world as we knew it was on the brink of something terrible. If Vlad gained any more power, I didn’t know if he’d be able to be stopped or not.
My Germanic dialects were not very good, but I kept trying. “Without the proper tools, you will not be able to defeat Vlad. I was once the blacksmith to God’s angels. Allow me to help.”
“You were also cast out of Heaven for supporting Satan. The very same Satan who gave my brother his unholy powers,” Radu reminded me.
“I made a mistake. I loved my God, my Father, yet I felt His feelings of humanity were misplaced. Even after everything, I still love Him and am willingly paying for my crimes. Are you willingly paying for yours, Radu?”
The thin vampyre hissed at me, but made no movements to strike. Even with his skill and strength, he would be no match for me. “Do not be a hypocrite. Your stubbornness will get both of you killed.”
“Perun, that is your name, correct?” Denis asked.
“Yes, long forgotten by mortals except in myths and legends.”
“How would you assist us moving forward? Just by providing a few trinkets?”
“Trinkets?” I scoffed. “The arms like I forge inspire stories about them. Do not think I am giving my gifts lightly.”
“What we really need is companionship. Those who are willing to sacrifice their time and, maybe even their lives. We have weaponry. I am asking for you to join us on this quest.”
Denis’s words hit someplace deep inside. “I cannot.”
“What the angel is saying is he will not. He will not stand up against something his former master has created,” Radu sniped, with sarcastic emphasis on the word former.
Denis only smiled, a true genuine smile. “It is with a heavy heart that I must turn down your offer. Should you ever feel the need to take up arms again, please seek us out. The more we can recruit against Vlad Dracul, the better.”
“I would not count on him, Denis.”
Yet I vowed never to pick up a weapon again and use it, a vow I made directly to God in the hopes one day he would grant me a path back home. “I am most sorry that I can be of no assistance. I wish you luck and bid you farewell.”
Chapter Twenty Five
**Crimea Region; 1942 the year of our Lord**
“H ad I broken my vow to God, they may have never recruited that vitch that betrayed them. I could have prevented much, including vhat you are facing now,” Perun finished.
If there was one thing I knew, no Brinza would ever ask a man to betray God. I might not have been the good Bible thumping damon hunter some of my ancestors were, however, I did know my stuff. Breaking a vow made to God Himself was one of the few things that I was pretty sure would get you sent back to Hell.
No sir, I wasn’t going to ask Perun to do that.
“If Denis was like me, had he known, he wouldn’t have asked you to come along.”
“How can you be sure?”
I pointed to my heart. “All Brinzas carry the same makeup. We fight for God, ridding the world of the unnatural and unholy. That means we believe in Him above all else. Breaking a vow to Him would be unthinkable, for any of us.”
It’s true, Castor. No Brinza would ever ask that of him.
Getting that confirmation from Luka was very reassuring. Thanks for backing me up.
“Besides, Castor’s going to take your gifts, unlike his ancestor,” Cassie chipped in.
There was no way I wasn’t going to use the flail and guns Perun modified and created. “These will be the difference.”
“Truth is I felt like coward. The vorld needed my help and I turned away. I almost did same thing again.”
“But you didn’t.”
The feeling that our time was almost over began to sink in. Cassie and I would be getting back on the road to Eastern Europe and who knew what would happen to Perun. He seemed to have some last words to part us with, first.
“In barn, you find supplies you vill need. Vhen I leave, sanctuary will revert back to original form. Do not linger,” he warned.
When we didn’t move, he barked, “Go, get supplies. I vill vait for you.”
Inside the barn, sitting on the forge, were the supplies Perun talked about. There were two distinct piles, one for each of us. My cache of supplies included a heavy coat with hidden interior pockets, a custom belt with holsters on each side for my new guns, and a small, felt bag filled with bullets. By the looks of it, Perun put about a hundred or so in there. I put on the coat and belt, placing the bag of bullets in one of the interior pockets. It was a tad cumbersome, but having extra ammo was never a bad thing.
Cassie’s bounty included a copper knife, a coat for her, and a leather travel bag. Inside were two more small volumes; she added the other two books that he gave her. When she was set, we set back out, this time a whole lot better prepared than before.
“You both look prepared for var, good.”
There would be no more fireside chats, no more stories. Perun had given us more than enough, in both knowledge and equipment, to succeed. I was very interested to hear what his final thoughts would be; what last tidbits of insight he might be able to impart.
“The vorld is not what it seems. Enemies wait in shadows, hoping your guard fails. Stay vigilant and do not trust what your eyes tell you,” he said.
Not that I knew what he was going to say, but I wasn’t expecting that. “Is there something you can’t tell us? Won’t tell us?”
“Castor, you’re bright guy. You vill figure things out. Just remember, what Koenig starts today vill have effects years from now. It’s too late to stop what vheels he’s begun movement. It's not too late to stop him from ruining more lives.”
Our time was up.
With a crack and a flash, we turned away only to come back to a homestead in ruins. Dead bodies were scattered everywhere; very old dead bodies mind you. The houses were in shambles and there was no trace of the working barn Perun used as a forge. Judging by the levels of decay and decompos
ition, it looked as if this place had been ruined a good while previously.
“If I had to guess, this is the work of the Baal Bear.”
“Well Cassie, that thing won’t be hurting anyone no more.”
It was a sad moment saying goodbye to be place that had just become comfortable. However, comfort led to complacency and if we were going to stop Koenig, we needed to be motivated. With a final inspection of the area, the two of us began trekking back north, off the Crimea peninsula and back into the war-torn areas of Eastern Europe.
****
Three days had gone by since we left Perun’s sanctuary. We’d rejoined the part of Europe that was under siege by the Nazis. Twice we had to take cover as German soldiers descended on the small villages that we tried to take respite in. The second time, I was convinced the platoon that was deployed was Koenig’s special daemonic soldiers; men who’d given up their humanity all in the name of doing Hitler’s dirty work.
We dared not to confront them yet. Our mission was to continue in further and find the gypsies.
Two more days passed when our luck changed for the better. We were able to acquire a motor vehicle outside of Kherson after assisting the locals with some Germans that had strayed away from the main forces. It was a group of five that had come into the city looking for any Jews that needed rounding up. All they found was pain and death when Cassie and I sprung upon them. The townspeople were so pleased with our support, they gifted us the rather clunky machine.
However, within the week, we’d crossed out of the Ukranian province of Russia and into a place I never thought I’d get a chance to visit, Moldova. I pulled the car off to the side of the very poorly formed road at Cassie’s behest. “We go on foot from here,” she said.
It made sense. The gypsies would be very old-world folk. If we were in one of these modern vehicles, they might not seek us out, no matter what my blood lineage was. It was late afternoon and we were just outside of Tiraspol. We entered the larger city, which was right on the Dniester River. We hung around the outskirts though, finding a small inn/bar that looked as if it didn’t get a lot of attention. With the threat of the Germans hanging over head, I got a good feeling that most of the places we’d run into from here on out would be this way.
“From my understanding, this is still technically Soviet territory,” Cassie explained before we entered.
Looking around at the conditions of everything, it did make sense. “Something don’t feel quite right to me; does it to you?”
“We’re in the middle of a very poor, very hostile section of Europe. Nothing’s going to feel right. We need to stay very vigilant.”
I got what she was saying, but no, this had little to do with the war. I couldn’t put my finger on it as we entered the small establishment. Cassie did most of the talking with the man and woman who seemed to own the places, eventually securing us a room for the night and a hot meal. Both seemed very leery of the strangers that walked in, yet they weren’t about to turn down some money. Cassie threw a few gold pieces on the counter, which the man greedily scooped up while sending his wife back to the kitchen.
“Rule number one about traveling in these small towns, always carry gold.”
I gave her the once over. “What else are you hiding from me?”
She never answered and we kept rather quiet while in the common area. Dinner was a rather subdued event with stew and bread. A few locals filed in and ate as well, but all kept their distance from our table. They were as cautious of us as we were of them. The moment the plates were cleared, the man presented us with the tarnished key to our room and bid us good night.
Our room was on the second floor of the old inn. It was at the end of a long, narrow hallway. It felt almost as if we were walking into a trap. Cassie opened the door without the same reservations that I had to reveal a small box with a bed and a wardrobe against the back wall. As I dropped my stuff on the floor, I was prepared to lay by the foot of the bed, giving the space to her.
“Get off the floor,” she told me.
“You’re certainly not sleeping on the floor.”
She rolled her eyes. “We are adults. We can both lay in the bed, Castor. God will not smite you for being in bed with a woman.”
I felt very uncomfortable with the idea, but relented. I slid up as close as I could to the left side, the one facing the door, and kept a gun within arm’s reach below me on the floor. Eventually, I dozed off, feeling Cassie’s arm wrapped around my chest.
Screams and gunfire woke me up.
“Castor, what’s going on?”
There was a small, grimy window in our room. I quickly got up and rubbed a clean spot to see. Tiraspol was under German attack. Not just any German attack; in the middle of the street below, Koenig’s supernatural super Nazi was standing there, looking straight up at me. Those dead, evil eyes knew exactly where we were and knew we’d have to get past him if we were to escape.
I grabbed my coat, equipped myself and then looked at Cassie. “Stay here. If you can get that window down to provide perimeter support, great. I’m going to take on big and ugly, myself.”
“That’s suicide!”
“That’s why it’ll work. They expect both of us, not just me.”
I didn’t give her a chance to argue any further. With everything on, I quickly left the room and descended into the now abandoned inn. No one was in my way until I made it back out onto the street. The Nazi was waiting for me, but a second man joined him. Long, slender, with black hair and horrible green eyes, the man was wearing a simple tunic with a large Russian style overcoat. He was holding a stick, probably the one that Koenig wanted so badly in Japan. He gave me a halfhearted look, as if I wasn’t all that impressive.
“Just who the hell are you?” I asked.
"No one of importance, unlike you," he rasped. His accent was lighter than Perun's, but his voice was greasy, oily. Just listening to him made me feel dirty.
"You got the wrong idea, comrade. I ain't no one important, either."
He just shook his head. "Many people would give up much for the power flowing through you, myself included."
Huh, this was all about Vlad's corruption that I'd been blessed with. What one views as a curse, others view as a gift, Luka added.
The German grunted; he was getting tired of waiting on the Russian.
"Don't kill him," the Russian ordered. "Koenig wants him alive."
Chapter Twenty Six
**Moldova; 1942 the year of our Lord**
S omething froze the monstrous being in his tracks. Looking up at the window, Cassie had succeeded in getting the window removed from the room and her hands were completely free in the night’s sky. I saw a blackish glow around Bug and Ugly’s feet; that had to have been the enchantment she was casting. The Russian joined me in seeing her handiwork and snarled. He began swinging the stick around, which seemed to enrage the large Nazi.
Castor, the artifact is full of powerful magic. Try to destroy it!
Luka hadn’t led me wrong yet. With the main part of the Nazi forces deeper into the city, death and destruction were closing in. I didn’t know how much time we had before we’d be overrun by platoon after platoon. The time for action was right in front of us.
My wrist flicked the new and improved flail hurtled forward towards the Russian wizard. The Nazi broke Cassie’s spell just in time to step in front and put his arm up. The coppery chain wrapped around the very bulky forearm and my foe yanked it clean from my hand. While the flail was still in midair, both pistols were free from their holders and the lead began to fly.
CRACK!
CRACK!
The reverberations of the bullet through the chamber and out the barrel echoed in the night. The two shots were aimed at the horrid mask that covered the beast’s face. Each shot was true as Perun’s special ammunition hit the straps holding the mask in place, breaking it free. As it fell off, fluttering to the ground, the repulsive realization of what this was vomit inducing.
The unnatural bounds and crisscross of poorly done stitching barely held the wolf’s face together. Between years of rot and trauma that must have been inflicted while it was alive, I could hardly believe anything kept that mess in place. The Russian, quickly getting over the surprise that this science experiment was now a known commodity, acted quickly and shook that damn stick a few more times. The mask floated back up and began to reattach itself to the werewolf.
I had one shot.
Before it could cover all the important parts again, a single bullet whizzed through the air and tore out the left eye. The mask snapped back in place just seconds afterwards.
The Russian felt the full brunt of the werewolf.
As he was knocked a few meters back as Koenig’s monster went berserk, I motioned to Cassie to go. Nothing was going to kill that wolf and with it enraged as it was, I couldn’t even imagine if it got its paws on us. The rest of the German battalion was closing in and it howled at the moon and began rushing into a path of chaos. Apparently, whatever happened when I shot it, it lost the ability for rational thought and gave in to primal urges. A mortar went off way too close for comfort, as I remembered all too well what happened that last time, I was in a place that got hit by that caliber of a shell.
Cassie was rushing out into the street. “What’s our play, Castor?”
The city was burning, literally. Fires were everywhere and I got the feeling that the number of alive was far fewer than the numbers of deceased. “The city’s lost. With that wolf running free, let grab the Russian…”
“Grigori is gone.”
That was his name! And hell, she was right. He was no longer sprawled out on the ground. “Damnit,” I grunted.
POP!
POP!
POP!
Three lower caliber shots came tearing towards us. Both of us hit the deck as two Germans entered the street, we were standing out in. I still had both guns in my hands and returned the favor, both hitting true. It did little, besides remove one’s arm and the other’s jaw.
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