Attila stood and announced in a bellowing voice. “My friends. Thank you all for sharing this joyous occasion with me. But I have to ask you all to leave. I want to be alone with my new bride.”
The guests all stood, serenading the warlord in a chorus of whistles and applauds. Singularly and in groups the guests staggered out, most in a drunken stupor. Attila followed behind them, joking with a few of his chieftains as he herded the guests toward the exit. When the last one had left, Attila motioned to one of the guards.
“I want to be alone with my bride. Make sure there are no disturbances.”
“As you wish.”
Attila closed the doors to the hall, and then turned around to face his bride. “We’re alone now.”
Chiang Shih emerged from the shadows. Attila stood erect and arched his shoulders back. She saw the way he stared at her, and noted the lust in his eyes. Chiang Shih feigned a smile. She wanted to take him to bed. To feel him inside her. To drink of each other’s blood and sire him as a master. For a moment, she considered abandoning her original plan and taking him as one of her own. But her desires had to take second place to her survivability.
Ildica, who still sat on the couch, her head bowed, looked up upon hearing Chiang Shih approach. Her face remained expressionless, but her eyes betrayed fear and uncertainty. Ildica glanced between Chiang Shih and Attila, hoping for an explanation. Chiang Shih knelt in front of Ildica and placed her hands over the girl’s.
“Everything will be all right,” she said in a reassuring voice.
Ildica nodded her assent.
“Is it time?” demanded Attila.
“Almost, my love.”
“And I’ll be as immortal and powerful as you?”
“More so.” Chiang Shih stood. She offered one hand to Ildica, who rose from the couch and took it. Chiang Shih led the girl over to the marriage bed. With her free hand, she motioned for Attila to follow. Attila crawled into bed and lay on his back. His brides sat on either side of him, Chiang Shih on his left, Ildica on his right. Ildica sat with her hands folded on her lap, an inexperienced girl with no idea what to do next. Chiang Shih reached out, took one of Ildica’s hands, and raised it to her lips. She gently kissed each fingertip and ran her tongue along Ildica’s thumb to her wrist. Her tongue made tiny circles, growing progressively larger until her mouth covered Ildica’s wrist. The girl gave a throaty moan.
Reaching out, Chiang Shih cupped Ildica behind the neck and drew her close. Their lips met. Ildica tried to pull back, but Chiang Shih held her head in place. She kissed the girl, each lasting longer than the last, until Ildica kissed back, tentatively at first, then slowly and more erotically. Their tongues met, and Ildica frantically explored Chiang Shih’s mouth. After a few seconds, her lips moved down Chiang Shih’s neck until she nibbled on the nape. When Chiang Shih reached up and caressed Ildica’s breast, the girl inhaled deeply.
Placing her hand behind Ildica’s neck, Chiang Shih lowered the girl’s head into Attila’s crotch. The girl did not resist. When her lips touched his cock through the clothes, she startled. Attila was enormous—ten inches long and two inches thick. It strained against his clothes. Ildica placed her hand on it, running her fingers across its length. She began to kiss it through his pants. Attila thrust his crotch into Ildica’s face. Unable to wait, Ildica pulled down his pants enough for the cock to spring free. Closing her eyes, Ildica placed her lips on the tip and slid as much of it into her mouth as possible.
Attila thrust deep into her throat, gagging her. “I’m going to enjoy being immortal.”
Chiang Shih placed her right hand over Attila’s eyes and closed the lids. “Just relax, my love.”
As Ildica sucked on Attila, Chiang Shih ran her fingers down his face, stroking his cheek and chin. Her hand came to rest over Attila’s mouth, with her fore and index fingers under his nose. She looked at him longingly. A tear formed in one of her eyes. Fighting back her emotions, she mouthed a single word.
“Goodbye.”
Chiang Shih’s hand morphed, the nails of the fore and index fingers transforming into six-inch-long talons that plunged through Attila’s nostrils and sliced into his brain. Attila’s eyes shot open, staring at Chiang Shih in disbelief. He tried to get up, but she forced his head down on the bed, holding him in place. Distracted by the commotion, Ildica attempted to look up from her sucking. With her left hand, Chiang Shih pushed the girl’s head onto Attila’s crotch, his engorged cock filling her mouth and preventing her from crying out to alert the guards.
Attila gagged as blood hemorrhaged from his brain and poured into his throat. He tried to raise his head to breathe, but Chiang Shih’s grip was too powerful. He opened his mouth to gulp for air, but Chiang Shih wrapped her thumb under his chin and forced his mouth shut. With no other recourse, Attila clutched at her arms, at first trying to use his own strength to break her grip and, when that did not work, frantically scratching and clawing. With a muffled cough, blood spurted out of Attila’s nose, covering Chiang Shih’s taloned fingers in blood. With his airways momentarily clear, he desperately snorted through his nose, and drew even more of the precious fluid into his lungs. Unable to breathe, the mightiest and most feared man in the world degenerated into a state of panicked terror, thrashing around against Chiang Shih’s grip. Chiang Shih closed her eyes, wanting to remember Attila as the warlord he was rather than the pitiful human he had become.
After another minute of struggling, Attila jerked frenetically, and then his body went limp. Chiang Shih moved her thumb over to the carotid artery to feel for a pulse. Nothing. She morphed her hand back to its human form. With the two fingers she had used to murder him, she closed Attila’s eyes for the final time.
“Sleep well, my love.”
Chiang Shih released her grip on Ildica’s head. The girl fell backwards onto the floor, the limp cock flopping out of her mouth. Leaning over, she retched. After regaining some of her composure, she looked up at Chiang Shih, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Why did you do that?”
“Shut up, bitch. You’ll alert the guards.”
Ildica glanced over to the bed. Her eyes went wide at the sight of Attila’s corpse. “What did you do?”
“I killed him.” Chiang Shih licked the blood from off of her fingers.
Rolling onto her hands and knees, Ildica crawled for the door. Chiang Shih went after her, quickly catching up. Grabbing the girl’s hair in her left hand, she yanked her to her feet. Ildica started to scream. Chiang Shih clutched a hand over the girl’s mouth, applying enough pressure to nearly crush her jaw and stifle any sound.
“Shut up or I’ll tear your throat out. Do you understand?”
Ildica nodded. Chiang Shih released her grip and let go of the girl’s hair. Ildica stepped back out of Chiang Shih’s reach and massaged her jaw.
“You don’t honestly think you’ll get away with this?”
“Get away with what?” Chiang Shih asked coyly. “Attila died in his sleep.”
“You murdered him.” Ildica arched her back in an unusual streak of defiance. “And I’m going to tell the guards.”
Chiang Shih chuckled. “Go ahead. Tell the guards that a monster snuck in here under their nose, killed Attila, and left you untouched. You’ll be lucky if they don’t kill you on the spot.”
Chiang Shih approached Ildica, who stepped back. She grabbed the girl around the throat and transformed into her vampiric form. The girl shook with terror. When Chiang Shih spoke again, her voice was deep and guttural.
“And if they don’t kill you, I will. And believe me, my way will not be pleasant.”
Chiang Shih released the girl, who crumbled to the floor, too terrified to respond. Chiang Shih reverted back to her human form. Kneeling beside Ildica, her voice became calm and soothing. “Now, what do you intend to tell the guards?”
Ildica whimpered. “That Attila died in his sleep.”
Chiang Shih gently patted her cheek. “Good girl.”
Wi
thout waiting for a reply, Chiang Shih stepped over to Attila’s corpse and gave it a goodbye kiss. She raced across the hall and jumped, sailing through the window cut at a height of ten feet into the wall, landing on the ground outside the wooden palace. She refused to look back. Instead, she raced for the tree line and disappeared into the woods. She would spend some time here in Carpathia, maybe even start a coven, and contemplate her next move. It was all for the best. For too long she had ignored her instincts, settling for the easy kills provided by the Huns’ pillaging and for love. In each case, it had almost cost her dearly. She had learned a valuable lesson, though, one she would never forget.
Never again would she allow anything, including her own emotions, to stand in the way of the advancement of the vampire kingdom. That would include, when necessary, culling the weak from the pact.
8.
Washington experienced a gorgeous autumn day, with temperatures in the low fifties accompanied by a warm sun that more than made up for the cool morning. Drake stood on the sidewalk in front of the Freer Gallery’s main entrance on Jefferson Drive, staring out over the Mall and soaking up the sunshine. This would be a perfect opportunity for a cigar, he mused. Except for the fact that it was only ten AM, that he did not have any bourbon with him to accompany it, and that the city had banned public smoking, which they enforced with more zeal than their anti-crime law. Besides, he would be meeting Jessica in a few minutes.
He looked at his watch. Not because Jessica was late, but because he had nothing better to do. Having arrived twenty minutes early, he already had checked his watch half a dozen times, and each time it seemed like the hands were moving slower than before.
“Impatient, aren’t you?”
Drake turned around. Jessica walked up behind him. She wore a tight pair of jeans tucked into knee-length boots and a pink turtleneck sweater that she filled out quite nicely. Jessica had opted not to wear a jacket, a decision Drake fully appreciated.
“I’m just waiting for you.”
“Well?” Jessica held up her arms and turned around completely, allowing Drake to take in the full view. “Was it worth the wait?”
“Very much so.” Drake stepped forward and hugged Jessica, then gave her a quick kiss. “In fact, I’m no longer interested in the Spanish Inquisition.”
“I know what you’re interested in. But I have work to do.”
“All work and no play—”
“Gets me fired.” Jessica gave Drake a quick peck on the cheek and gently broke their hug. She pulled the entrance tickets from her purse. “Come on. The exhibit is all about violence, torture, and death. You’ll love it.”
They entered the museum, made their way upstairs to the main foyer, and followed a pair of velvet ropes supported by chain stands that guided visitors to the Ferrar exhibit. A young woman checked their tickets to make sure they had arrived at the appointed time, and then directed them to the exhibit room. Several minutes later, they entered a large hall that detailed the history of the Spanish Inquisition in photographs, paintings, and sketches. It covered the period from its beginnings in the late fifteenth century to combat heresy through its heyday under King Ferdinand V and Queen Isabella when detainment without due process and torture reached its height. The Inquisition eventually disbanded in the early nineteenth century, but not before hundreds of thousands of innocents were tortured until they converted or renewed their vows of Christian faith, and five thousand people were executed for heresy. Drake and Jessica took their time in this hall, stopping to read each description, with Jessica frequently scribbling in her notepad.
Exiting this display, the two entered the next room through a pair of ornately-carved heavy wooden doors, each twelve feet tall and five feet wide, replicated to look like the doors leading into a cathedral. Immediately upon entering, Drake slowed. “Wow!”
They entered a spacious room, at least one hundred feet long and half as wide, with a ceiling towering nearly twenty feet. The interior surfaces were fabricated in such a way as to look like the main hall of a medieval castle, an ambience further induced by the dim lighting. What caused Drake’s exclamation, however, was not the design of the room but the exhibits on display. Situated in the center of the floor space were a dozen devices used for the interrogation and torture of those accused of heresy by the Inquisition. Stocks. A rack for stretching the accused. A floor-mounted garrote. A scavenger’s daughter, an iron device with mounted manacles for the neck, hands, and feet that forced the victim into a fetal position. An iron maiden, a bulky wooden sarcophagus adorned with the visage of a woman whose interior walls were filled with spikes carefully arranged so that, when the twin door were shut, the spikes would penetrate the victim’s body but not puncture any vital organs. An inquisitional chair, a wooden monstrosity with a carpet of thirteen hundred spikes covering the back, seat, armrest, and leg rests, accompanied by a waist-high bar to hold the victim in place. And a large-toothed, four-handled saw used to cut in half a victim, suspended upside down, from crotch to head. A series of glass display cases were arranged in line along each wall. Each case held various weapons from that period. Daggers. Ceremonial and war swords. Spears. A variety of maces, most with ornamental flanges that were straight-edged, curved, or pointed. Halberds, which were spear-like weapons topped with a spike that reminded Drake of a meat cleaver with a spear point welded to the end. Partisans, thirty-inch-long spears whose blades tapered outward from the point to the hilt, ending in curved wing blades. And a bill hook, an agricultural tool used for chopping objects and trimming hedges that, when placed on the end of a spear pole, became an effective weapon.
Drake walked from one display case to the next, examining each weapon in great detail, in some cases bending over the case to get a closer look. He did not speak a word, and barely acknowledged Jessica’s presence. While Drake examined the weapon in the final display case, Jessica stepped up beside him.
“What do you find so fascinating?”
“These weapons.”
“One of those guy things?”
“Not really.” Drake turned to face Jessica. He lowered his voice so the man in the red parka examining the display case to his left would not hear. “I wonder if we could adapt any of these to fight vampires.”
“You probably could, if you and Alison don’t mind running around Washington with these things and looking like a bunch of peasants from a 1930’s horror movie.”
“I guess we would look stupid.” Drake chuckled. “Come on. Let’s check out the rest of the exhibit.”
The final room contained Antonio Ferrar’s personal affects. An inquisitional robe. A wooden chair he used to sit on while presiding over tribunals. A dagger worn under his robe for protection. And sundry other items representative of life in the fifteenth century. Drake stood in front of a display case containing Ferrar’s toiletries when Jessica slid up beside him. Wrapping her arms around his left arm, she hugged him close.
“Does Reese really think he’ll find that vampire book in this exhibit?”
“It’s called the Vampyrnomicon. And no, he won’t find it here. Ferrar’s books and papers are too fragile to be put on public display. They’re being kept in a special archive downstairs. Only a few academics are being allowed access to them.”
Jessica looked at him, surprised by the answer. “And how do you know all this?”
“Reese told me. That’s why he’s here in Washington.” Drake ushered her along to the next display case. “Ostensibly, he’s doing research in Medieval Studies. But he’s really combing through Ferrar’s papers to see if he can figure out where the Vampyrnomicon is.”
“What’s in it?”
Drake shrugged. “No one knows. According to Reese, it contains everything there is to know about the undead. Their origin. Their history. And, hopefully, how to destroy them for good.”
A moment of silence passed as Jessica thought about what Drake had said. Then she asked, “If the Vampyrnomicon contains so much information on vampires, then the v
ampires would do anything to prevent us from getting it. So doesn’t that put Reese in danger?”
Drake had not considered that possibility before. What Jessica said made sense. If the Vampyrnomicon did hold the deepest secrets of the undead, then finding that book would give them the ultimate weapon to clean out the nest once and for all. Although he had no proof, Drake assumed the vampires also knew about the Ferrar exhibit and its connection to the Vampyrnomicon, and would stop at nothing to prevent the hunters from getting their hands on it. It was just another part of his job. However, until Jessica mentioned it, he had not taken into account the possibility that Reese’s unique ability as the only one who could determine the location of the book could put him in harm’s way. Drake liked and respected Reese, but was not sure how the professor would fare in a vampire attack.
Seeing that the conversation had put Drake in a somber mood, Jessica tried to cheer him up. “We’re assuming that this Vampyrnomicon is real and not just a legend. Even if it does exist, and it’s here in the museum, what are the chances the vampires have figured it out for themselves and will come for it?”
“I guess you’re right,” said Drake.
“Of course I am. I always am.” Jessica hugged his arm close to her. “Now, smile. This is a date, remember?”
“You’re right.” Drake placed his hand over Jessica’s and squeezed gently. “I’ll be morbid on my own time.”
“Good. Because I have a couple of hours before I have to be back at the office. How about grabbing a taxi back to your place?”
“I like that idea.” Drake leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. “But first I want to hit the gift shop.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I want to see if they’re selling any replicas of the weapons we saw in that last room. Maybe Jim can adapt them for use against the undead.”
The Vampire Hunters (Book 2): Vampyrnomicon Page 15