The Vampire Hunters (Book 2): Vampyrnomicon

by Baker, Scott M.

  22 October 1485

  After much prayer and contemplation, I have decided on how to deal with the vampirus. As a man of the world I pondered how you deal with creatures that are the spawns of Satan? How do you ensure the salvation of something that has no soul?

  As a man of God I am reminded that it is my duty to offer redemption to anyone, even those who reject Him.

  I discussed my plans with the remaining guards, since they will assist me in implementing them. As expected, reactions were mixed. Two of my guards refused outright, declaring what I proposed was a blasphemy and accusing me of blurring the line between what is holy and what is sacrilege—a charge, I fear, which may not be unfounded. The other guards agreed to assist but, although none of them said as much, I know they have reservations. I pray that in trying to save the vampirus’ souls, I have not condemned my guards’ to damnation.

  I have the vampirus’ auto de fe scheduled for just before dawn tomorrow morning.

  23 October 1485

  It is finally over.

  Our preparations began shortly after midnight. I brought in twelve extra guards, swearing them to secrecy under the threat of excommunication. We prayed together and took Holy Communion—a pathetically futile gesture against what we witnessed.

  We started by setting up the quemadero, five pillars in all, one for each vampirus. I opted against a public burning, using instead the prison courtyard. Once the place of burning was ready, we retrieved the vampirus.

  To ensure our safety, we brought the creatures out to the courtyard one at a time, each in their basin filled with holy water. Once all five basins were outside, we waited until ten minutes before sunrise to lessen the chance of an escape. As sunlight began to flood the morning sky, my guards moved quickly. In three-man teams, they removed the coffins from the basins. As one team member held a bucket of holy water at the ready, the other two lifted the lid off the coffin, removed the vampirus, and lashed it to a pillar. Most of the creatures submitted with minimal resistance. One, however, tried to overpower its guards and escape, stopping only when the bucket of holy water was tossed into its features. It bellowed hideously as the holy water seared its face, but it allowed itself to be lashed to its pillar. With minutes left to sunrise, the guards set each pillar on fire.

  God, in his infinite mercy, granted these creatures one last chance at salvation through cleansing by fire and sunlight. I stood before each vampirus, blessing whatever remnant of humanity resided in their bodies and offering each to receive the sign of the cross which they had each denied. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, they each rejected their final chance at salvation. The vampirus blasphemed me and my guards, threatening us with acts of vengeance none was in a position to enforce.

  Only Emilio Carius remained passive, seemingly oblivious to the flames that seared his legs. Only as the sun burst over the prison roof and washed across the courtyard did Emilio Carius speak to me with a solemn warning.

  “You will not defeat us. Like your Christians, we grow in number every day. But evil is stronger than good, and in the end we will prevail.”

  At that moment, the first rays of sunlight struck the other four vampirus. Never have I heard such woeful cries. It must have sounded like the chorus of anguish from the depths of hell itself. As the sunlight inched down their bodies, their skin charred and peeled, coming off in ashen flakes. The muscles, eyes, gums, and tongues disintegrated in a similar manner. Then their skulls darkened, blistered, and crumbled, their howls dying out as their throats turned to dust. As more and more of their bodies became exposed to the sun, the rate of disintegration increased until, within minutes, the four vampirus were reduced to nothing more than piles of ash.

  Emilio Carius was spared this fate because of an abutment on the prison roof that cast him in the shadows. The flames rose up around his body, roasting him alive. When the fire ignited his legs, Carius cried out with a pitiful wail and lashed out against his restraints. The body transformed from human to demon. Its skin became the color of death. Fangs replaced teeth, and claws replaced fingers. The face looked like that of an animal, with a furrowed forehead and fiery red eyes sunk deep into their sockets. In this monstrous form, blisters welled up and erupted along its extremities and face, and its abdomen swelled.

  Carius turned to me, his eyes trying to penetrate my soul. For a moment, I thought my time to die had come. He lunged at me, straining against the ropes securing him to the pillar, and would have easily snapped them had he not been so weak. The stress of trying to get free caused his abdomen to rupture, spilling his organs and intestines into the fire. His thrashing stopped as the pain became too intense for even this creature to endure. Carius slumped forward against his restraints. His body soon crumbled like the others. Skin and muscle, flesh and bone peeled away in flakes that mixed with the fiery embers drifting to the heavens.

  Ten minutes after sunrise, all five vampirus had been reduced to ash.

  Most of my guards had not witnessed these death knells, for at the first ungodly wails of anguish they had fallen to their knees to beseech our Lord and Savior for salvation. Once the hellish moment had passed, I gathered my guards together, heard their confessions one final time, offered absolutions, and reminded them of their vow never to speak of these events

  But though the incident may never be spoken of, I know it will remain forever in our nightmares.

  26 October 1485

  It took me three days to work up enough courage to return to the courtyard where we burned the vampirus. I could still hear their wails. I could still smell their charred flesh. I could still see them crumbling into ash. It is an image that will haunt me for the rest of my mortal life.

  I gathered the ashes from around the five pillars and placed them into a silver urn, filling the remaining space with holy water and mixing the two. I sealed the lid with wax from votive candles. The archbishop blessed the urn, which was then encased in the foundation stones of a church being built in a village near Barcelona where no one will ever find it.

  The personal property of Emilio Carius and the other vampirus, including their residences, was confiscated and destroyed by fire.

  Everything, that is, except the Vampyrnomicon. I agonized over what to do with that damnable book. If it falls into the hands of The Master, then man may well bear witness to the end of days. However, the book provides the key to destroying The Master and ridding the world of these creatures forever. My decision could just as easily condemn humanity as well as save it.

  Perhaps it was human weakness on my part, or maybe prescience, but in the end I opted to keep the Vampyrnomicon safe yet well hidden until such time as circumstances dictate man’s next course of action. As such, I wrapped the book in a monk’s shroud, placed it in a silver box, and locked it shut. The box was entrusted to Father Olmos, a respected priest from Saragossa Cathedral who was tasked with carrying the Vampyrnomicon to the east and ensuring it is safely ensconced from the evil that plagues the west.

  As for myself, I intend to retire from the priesthood. There is no way I can offer my parish the promise of eternal salvation when I am no longer certain that mankind might not one day fall prey to universal damnation. The archbishop of Saragossa has written me a letter of introduction to his friend, the abbot of the monastery at Mont St. Michel, requesting that I be allowed to stay there and live out my days in peaceful contemplation.

  May God keep me, bless me, and grant me eternal salvation. Amen.

  13 May 1486

  I never intended to write again in this journal, but I feel the need to include on final entry.

  This afternoon, I received a visit from a young priest from the east who called on me on behalf of Father Olmos. The young priest informed me that, according to Father Olmos, the Vampyrnomicon resides in the Dambovita citadel and is safely in the bosom of the defender of the faith. He assures me that the book will never be found by man or vampirus, for Father Olmos is the only individual who knows the exact location of the book. He has
formed the Protectors of the Treasures of Solomon’s Temple, a small group of devotedly religious men who will protect and preserve the secrets of the Vampyrnomicon. Father Olmos will pass the information down to only one other person who can carry the secret after he has passed on. That individual, in turn, will pass on the secret to a trusted confidant, and so on in perpetuity, until the book is needed to save humanity.

  For the first time since crossing paths with Emilio Carius, I feel a sense of peace and confidence in the future.

  God has shown mercy on my tortured soul.

  Reese flipped the last page over to see if anything had been written on the back, in particular notations explaining the location of the Dambovita citadel, the identity or the defender of the faith, or any information on the Protectors of the Treasures of Solomon’s Temple. Nothing. Damn. These clues were useless. A bunch of cryptic descriptions more than five hundred years old that made no sense, and several claims about the importance of the Vampyrnomicon but nothing about its content.

  All right, Reese told himself. Calm down and think. The clues purposefully were kept cryptic so no one could find the Vampyrnomicon except those who intended to use it to defeat the undead. He needed to solve those clues, and he could not do that sitting in this research room. He required access to the Internet and his personal library back at Salem State. Assuming that the whole story of the Vampyrnomicon was not just the ramblings of a priest who had gone mad. Assuming that Ferrar’s clues were, in fact, decipherable. And assuming that the book had not been lost or destroyed over the last five hundred years. A hell of a lot of assumptions to base a war against the undead on.

  Reese jotted down a few innocuous notes about the location of the Vampyrnomicon. He would conduct some research on the Internet after meeting Drake and Jessica for dinner.

  * * *

  “I’m surprised you like this place,” said Jessica loudly to compensate for the background noise as she thumbed through the menu.

  “Why’s that?” Drake slid off his leather jacket and draped it over the back of the chair.

  “They don’t serve bourbon. Only beer.”

  As Drake sat down, he took the menu out of her hands, flipped it to the last page, and handed it back. He tapped the section marked alcoholic beverages. “Maker’s Mark Whiskey. The next best thing.”

  “Only you would order whiskey at a beer hall.”

  “I’m ordering a beer.”

  “Well, that’s a switch.”

  “Whiskey doesn’t go well with fish and chips.” Drake leaned back and placed his arm on the back of Jessica’s chair. “I’ll have my bourbon back at the apartment when I have a cigar later.”

  Jessica referred to the Brickskeller on 22 Street near Rock Creek Park, a favorite haunt of the Georgetown college crowds and any Washington connoisseur of good beer. Most patrons came here to select among the thousand-plus brands listed on the menu. Others enjoyed the atmosphere because the basement maze of low-ceilinged dining rooms, the walls of each adorned with empty beer bottles from most every brew known to man, reminded one of a cross between a Smithsonian Institute exhibit and a Munich beer garden. Drake chose this spot because he and Reese enjoyed good pub food, of which the Brickskeller had some of the best in Washington.

  When the waitress came by to take their order, Drake ordered a German lager and Jessica ordered an Irish Guinness. He asked her to come back for their food order after their friend arrived. Once the waitress left, Jessica looked at her watch.

  “What time was Reese supposed to meet us?”

  “Nine.”

  “It’s already a quarter past.”

  “Not a problem. Reese sometimes gets so involved in his work he loses track of time. If he’s not here by nine thirty, we’ll go ahead and order dinner.”

  The two chatted about nothing in particular for ten minutes before Drake saw Reese stick his head into the doorway, craning his neck to look around. Drake stood and waved. Catching site of his friend, Reese made his way across the room.

  Drake and Jessica stood, the former holding out his hand. “Glad you could make it.”

  Reese shook Drake’s hand, then Jessica’s. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “I thought you might have gotten lucky.”

  “I did.” Reese did not get Drake’s joke. As he sat down, he became animated. “I found the location of the Vampyrnomicon.”

  “You know where it is?” asked Jessica.

  “Not the exact location, but close enough.” Reese curbed his enthusiasm and tried to explain. “Ferrar wrote about Emilio Carius, the vampire he was interrogating. Carius had the Vampyrnomicon in his possession when taken by the Inquisition. Ferrar read it.”

  “What’s in it?” asked Drake.

  Reese shrugged. “Ferrar never said. He only mentioned that if the vampires got hold of the book, it could mean the end of humanity. If humans got hold of the book, they could use it to defeat the vampires once and for all.”

  “Damn,” whispered Jessica under her breath.

  “That’s an understatement.” He lowered his voice so no one else could hear. “So where’s the Vampyrnomicon now?”

  “Ferrar sent the book to the east, but he didn’t say where. The only indication was a set of cryptic clues as to its whereabouts.”

  “Can you figure them out?”

  “In time, probably.” Reese slid out if his jacket. Turning around, he draped it over the back of his chair. “That’s why I’m late. When I finished at the Freer, I went to the National Library and did some research, but I didn’t come up with anything.”

  “What’s next?” asked Jessica.

  “I’m going back to the Freer tomorrow to take more detailed notes. Once I have everything I need, I can start my research in earnest, and hopefully figure out where that book is.”

  The waitress showed up with Drake’s and Jessica’s drinks. She took the rest of the order and left.

  Reese slapped the palms of his hands against his knees. “Now, is this food really as good as you claim?”

  Sitting in his Oldsmobile parked on 22 Street across from the Brickskeller, Akers adjusted the volume control on his listening device for the third time in as many minutes. The background noise nearly drowned out Drake and Jessica, making it difficult for him to hear their conversation. From what he could make out, though, they were not discussing anything important. Jessica’s editor, a rabbit, and some guy named Rodriguez. Oh, Christ. If he had to listen to much more of this dribble, he would ask Chiang Shih to tear out his throat. He leaned back against the headrest.

  After ten minutes, another familiar voice joined the conversation. It belonged to that college professor. Great. Now he could listen to them debate the importance of beer in the Middle Ages.

  “I found the location of the Vampyrnomicon.”

  Akers sat upright in his seat. Jackpot.

  “You know where it is?”

  “Not the exact location, but close enough.”

  Reaching into the glove compartment, Akers pulled out a pen and pad of paper, jotting down notes on what they discussed. After a few minutes, the conversation turned from the Vampyrnomicon to the merits of pub food. Akers looked at his notes. The professor had not provided much information, but he knew how to find the book. Chiang Shih would want to know this.

  Taking out his cell phone, Akers flipped it open and dialed Walker’s number.

  Walker answered his cell phone. “Yes?”

  “It’s me.”

  “Be careful what you say.”

  “I know,” said Akers. “Our friends have figured out how to find what they’re looking for.”

  “Really?” The rise in Walker’s voice caught Chiang Shih’s attention. She looked over at him quizzically. He raised a hand to prevent her from asking. “Hang on. I’m putting you on speaker phone.”

  Walker moved closer to Chiang Shih as he switched his cell phone over to speaker mode. He placed it on the table in front of her. “Please repeat that last comment.”

/>   “Our friends have figured out how to find what they’re looking for.”

  “How do you know this?” asked Chiang Shih.

  “The information is in some memoirs in a book at the museum. It’s in the form of clues the professor says he can solve.”

  “We need to get our hands on that book,” said Walker.

  “We will,” assured Chiang Shih. “But we can’t overplay our hand. The book isn’t going anywhere, so we have time to form a plan.” To Akers. “You’ve done well. You’ll be properly rewarded.”

  “Thank you, Mistress.”

  Walker leaned forward and spoke into the phone. “Good job. I’ll be in touch.”

  He ended the call, then turned his attention to Chiang Shih. “What now?”

  “We need to find a way to get that book.”

  “Maybe Akers can request admission to the library for research.”

  “It would be easier, but he doesn’t have the credentials.”

  “Damn.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Chiang Shih. “We’ll brainstorm with the others once they get here.”

  Akers closed the cell phone and contemplated shutting down the listening device, but decided otherwise. It was still relatively early, and the hunters and the professor had only just begun dinner. He figured he would hang around and listen in for a while longer. With luck, he might collect something useful about their future plans.

  The three friends spent the next two hours dining, talking, and laughing, losing track of time. When the waitress brought their bill, Reese looked at his watch.

  “It’s after eleven.”

  Jessica looked at hers. “I’ll be useless at work tomorrow.”

  “I guess brandy and cigars back at my place are out of the question, then?”