by Craig Zerf
Blood painted the walls of the room like some insane Jackson Pollock painting.
Nicoleta sat on the chair, frozen in absolute terror. Her roommate lay on the floor in front of her, throat torn open, limbs splayed, dress ripped.
More of the girls lay behind her, piled high like so much firewood. Discarded after those things had fed on them. In fact, some of them were still feeding, grunting and sucking as they drained the life’s blood from the broken bodies.
And a man stood in front of her. His face was covered in congealing blood. As was his bare chest.
He smiled. ‘My, aren’t you a pretty one,’ he said, his eyes two black orbs of soulless nothing surrounded by fire red orbs. He approached her and held his hand out to stroke her face but she pulled away in loathing and fear.
‘Oh, that won’t do,’ he said as he grabbed her face with both hands and forced her to look into his demon-like eyes.
And then she felt her free will tear from her as the unbelievable strength of his mind scoured all fear and hatred and loathing from her, leaving only a white hot desire to please him. To worship him. To do his every will and whim.
Then the man stood up, stretched and turned to the priest who lay on the floor, bound by his hands and feet.
‘So, priest,’ said the man. ‘Tell me, what were you and your associates doing here?’
‘We had come to help the girls,’ replied the holy man, his voice blurred as he spoke through his ruined mouth and broken teeth.
‘Why?’ Continued Nathan. ‘Who killed the guards? Who told you to come here?’
‘The diocesan bishop,’ answered the priest. ‘He said that I must take some of my most trusted parishioners and come to this address. He said to clean up and bring the girls back to the church were they would be safe.’
Nathan laughed. ‘Well that didn’t work out too well for you, did it?’
The priest started at the Vampire, his eyes full of hatred. ‘You will not get away with this,’ he said, his voice full of faith. ‘The sedes sacorum will hunt you down and dispatch you to hell.’
Nathan laughed again. ‘Oh, priest,’ he said. ‘There is no sedes sacorum anymore. As you well know, the new Pope has declared that Vampires do not exist. The Knights of the Holy See have been disbanded. So I very much doubt that they will be hunting anyone down.’
Tears of frustration sprang unbidden to the priest’s eyes as he took in the truth of Nathan’s statement and his shoulders dropped with resignation. ‘You shall still rot in hell, you abomination,’ he replied.
‘Perhaps,’ admitted Nathan. ‘But as I am immortal I very much doubt that will happen in the foreseeable future. Now, tell me, priest, who attacked the guards and why?’
The priest looked at Nathan and smiled.
Pater noster, qui es in cœlis;
sanctificatur nomen tuum:
Adveniat regnum tuum;
fiat voluntas tua,
‘No,’ shouted Nathan. ‘I didn’t ask for the Lord’s Prayer, I asked for an answer.
sicut in cœlo, et in terra.
Panem nostrum cotidianum da nobis hodie:
Et dimitte nobis debita nostra,
Nathan strode over to the priest and lifted him off the floor, backhanding him across the face as he did so. ‘Answer me.’
The priest smiled again and continued to pray.
sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris:
et ne nos inducas in tentationem:
sed libera nos a malo.
Nathan struck him again and again but the priest would not stop, even when his face was a bleeding mash of broken flesh.
‘Answer me.’ Screamed Nathan as he punched the holy man again.
The priest managed one last smile.
Quia tuum est regnum, et potestas, et Gloria,
in saecula. Amen.
And then his body went limp as his soul departed.
Nathan threw him against the wall like a discarded chew-toy.
‘I know why they came, my lord,’ said Nicoleta, her face shining with glamoured joy at the fact that she might know something that would please her master.
‘Speak,’ commanded Nathan.
‘The girl, Emily, she came by herself. One of the men kidnapped her and brought her here. Then she killed them all and when the rest of the guards came, her friends arrived and exterminated them.’
The ex-Shadowhunter raised an eyebrow. ‘If they truly did kidnap her them she must have allowed them to,’ he said. ‘I wonder why?’
‘She wanted to help us,’ answered Nicoleta. ‘Even now she and her friends are clearing the other salting houses and freeing the girls. At first her friends did not want to help her. Particularly the French man. He insisted that they were Vampire hunters, not law-makers.’
‘So, merely an unfortunate coincidence for the Foldessy Family.’ He laughed out loud. ‘Damn they must have gotten a shock when the bitch went off at them. And now they’re busy taking down the rest of the family.’
‘They almost didn’t,’ said Nicoleta. ‘The Frenchman insisted that they should rather be seeking something he called the Protestarium. ‘He said that they knew where it was.’
Nathan froze. ‘The Potestatum?’
Nicoleta nodded. ‘That’s it. The Potestatum.’
‘Petrus,’ shouted Nathan.
The Bloodwraith appeared in the room as if by magik, so fast had he moved. ‘My lord?’
‘Gather the brethren. The Shadowhunter has a lead to the Potestatum. We must find them and let them take us to it. Move.’
The Nosferatu gathered together and boarded their coaches. Nathan kept Nicoleta by his side. A new servant. A slave. A ready meal.
Chapter 30
Otto and Tag had managed to find an alternative mode of transport given that the bus had been totaled during the attack on the Foldessy stronghold. And no one was complaining about the change.
They now traveled in a custom made eight seat minibus. From the outside the bus looked similar to any standard midrange people mover. But the inside was a very different story.
The seats had been taken from a first class airplane and the rest of the interior was done up like an executive jet, complete with wet bar, on board entertainment and a small washroom. Needless to say, all of the windows were heavily tinted as the Foldessy’s liked their privacy, so the sun did not affect Sylvian or Emily as they drove through the day.
‘Cluj is different to the other hidden cities,’ said Sylvian. ‘It is the original one and it has been in existence since time immemorial.’
‘Different in what way?’ Asked Troy.
‘Sylvian thought for a while before he answered. ‘No cats,’ he said. ‘But that isn’t the biggest difference. It’s difficult to explain without actually experiencing it. I suppose that the best way is to say that hidden Cluj and Cluj proper are the same place, occupying the same space but on a slightly different plane.’
‘Well that explains it,’ said Tag. ‘Apart from all of those words that you just said that mean absolutely nothing to me.’
The Bloodborn sighed. ‘You know how we physically entered Pareen and Romeen? Stairs, doorways that sort of thing?’
They all nodded.
‘Well that’s not how you enter Cluj. The way to enter the hidden part of Cluj is to head for the Botanical gardens, you enter and then, if the city accepts you, you will find yourself walking in the same area but it will be the hidden side of it. In other words, hidden Cluj is the same as normal Cluj but somehow it has been shifted slightly in both time and space. Don’t ask me how or when. I don’t know.’
‘So what you’re saying,’ said Troy. ‘Is that anyone who wants to get into hidden Cluj simply desires it and is let in?’
‘No, the city decides. In fact I doubt that Muller or Otto will be allowed in. I haven’t seen humans there before. It doesn’t actually seem to be a rule, as such, but it never happens. Tag is a gray area, not sure how human he still is.’
‘What about Vampire
s?’ Asked Emily.
‘That’s the next major difference. Vampires and WereWolves, although not specifically welcomed, are often allowed in. You see, Cluj is a neutral zone. No one has fought there for many millennia and no one ever would. It is taboo.’
‘We should be near the city center in under an hour. It’s twilight now so night will have fallen.’ informed Muller. ‘All will become clearer then I am sure. Do the Gardens stay open at night?
‘Twenty four hours,’ affirmed Sylvian.
‘Should we tool up?’ Asked Tag.
Sylvian nodded. ‘Concealed weapons only. Obviously we can’t go walking around the capital city with assault rifles and flak jackets.’
When they entered the city, Sylvian gave Muller directions to the Botanical Garden. They pulled into a parking within sight of the entrance. Sylvian climbed out and took a look at the parking meter. ‘Hey.’ He called. ‘Has anyone got any Romanian Leu? I assumed that they would take Euro but they don’t’
‘Sure,’ quipped Tag. ‘Always carry a bunch of Leu around with me. Obscure currency is my bag.’
‘I take it that means no,’ noted Sylvian.
‘So what?’ Asked Troy. ‘Let them fine us. Not as if it’s our vehicle and the Foldessy Family is way past caring.’
The Bloodborn chuckled. ‘True,’ he admitted. ‘So, follow me. Let’s see how many of us can get into hidden Cluj.’
The team strolled into the Botanic Garden heading towards the center. ‘Right then,’ said Sylvian. ‘This is a little hard to explain but I want you all to visualize being in the hidden Cluj.’
‘How?’ Asked Tag. ‘We never been there so we don’t know what to visualize.’
‘It doesn’t actually matter,’ replied Sylvian. ‘Just think of the idea.’
Tag shrugged and his eyes narrowed as he tried to think of the idea of a place that he had never been to. The others assumed similar expressions of baffled concentration.
‘Now close your eyes,’ instructed the Bloodborn.
They all did so.
‘That’s strange,’ continued Sylvian. ‘I would never have thought that Muller and Otto would be accepted.’
The group opened their eyes to find themselves in the same Botanic Garden. Apart from two major differences. Firstly they were surrounded by a throng of mythical creatures. Elves, trolls, goblins and more. Secondly, the light was totally different. Instead of the distant pale blue moon that they had left the celestial orb that hung above them now was huge and golden-red. Its light bathed all in an Aurelian glow, tinted with flecks of scarlet. The world as viewed through a beautiful stained glass window.
‘It’s stunning,’ gasped Emily.
‘Amazing,’ agreed Troy.
Both Muller and Otto crossed themselves.
‘Why’s it all so orange?’ Asked Tag. ‘Looks weird.’
Troy laughed. ‘And once again,’ he said. ‘Tag is smitten by the awesome beauty of the unknown.’
‘What?’ Said Tag. ‘All I said is that the place comes over a little on the tangerine side. That’s all.’
‘Where too now?’ Asked Emily.
‘Things are a little more open here than the other hidden cities,’ said Sylvian. ‘I suggest that we go to the library and simply ask where the WereWolves live. The librarians here are famous for their knowledge of all matters both arcane and mundane.’
It took them twenty minutes to walk to the library. An impressive yellow stone building with a sweeping stairway in the front. Sylvian led them inside and approached a severe looking older woman seated at the front desk.
The Frenchman bowed extravagantly before he spoke. ‘It has been too long, my Aphrodite of the halls of learning,’ he said in greeting to the sour looking old lady.
She snorted. ‘It’s never long enough, you reprobate. What are you here for today? Spreading rumor and causing trouble as usual?’’
Sylvian took her hand and kissed it. ‘How are you, my love?’
‘Alive. Still learning. There is so much to read. So very much to catalog.’
‘The quest for knowledge is never-ending,’ agreed the Bloodborn.’
‘What do you want?’ The lady replied abruptly.
‘Advice,’ said Sylvian. ‘Nothing too onerous. In fact I hesitate to ask you something so mundane. My colleagues and I seek a friend. A certain, Methuselah.’
‘The oldest of all WereWolves. The Wolf whose death shall bring judgment?’
‘The self same one,’ concurred Sylvian.
She shook her head. ‘No. Never heard of him.’
‘Oh foul and monstrous untruth,’ said Sylvian with a chuckle in his voice. But please put your mind at ease, my dear heart. We come in peace. In fact we have been sent by Methuselah’s ultimate master, the Omega himself.’
The old lady thought for a few seconds and then shook her head again. ‘No. If he sent you then he would have told you where to look.’
‘He couldn’t,’ argued Sylvian. ‘It’s complicated but, essentially, we speak the truth.’
‘Essentially is not ultimately. The essence of what you say may be truthful but that simply means that all of the extraneous parts could be a lie.’
Troy stepped forward. ‘Ma’am, if I may approach?’
The old lady nodded. ‘How can I refuse one with such manners?’
‘Easy,’ mumbled Sylvian. ‘You just refused me.’
Troy held out the signet ring. ‘This is Sir William’s ring. He gave it to me so that I can talk in his stead. We are on a mission of the utmost importance and the absolute acme of secrecy. I beg of you, please tell us where my brother Wolf is. I assure you, on the Pack, that we mean him no harm, we merely seek his guidance.’
She beckoned to Troy to step forward and she took his hand. The Wolf gasped as he felt his entire life open to the old lady. His every thought, his every breath. The very essence of his knowledge.
‘You lie,’ she said. ‘But you mean no harm by it. Next time tell the whole truth, my child, it will get you further. As it happens, your arrival has been preordained.’ She turned to look at Emily. ‘As was hers, the Shadowhunter.’ She let go of the Wolfman’s hand. ‘Go to the fountains. From there you will know where to proceed to.’
Troy bowed his thanks as did Sylvian.
‘Girl,’ she said to Emily. ‘Be careful. Power is a terrible thing. Never let it control you.’
And then she turned her back on them.
Sylvian gestured to the group and they followed him from the library and out into the golden night.
Chapter 31
‘Many parts of the hidden city are the same as the visible one,’ said Sylvian. ‘Particularly the older buildings. But this fountain is unique. Fed from underground springs that do not exist in the other world. It is said that once you have drunk from them you will always feel a compulsion to return.’
‘Is that true?’ Asked Muller.
‘I don’t know,’ admitted Sylvian. ‘I have never drunk from the fountain.’
‘Tell me,’ continued Muller. ‘Why are we here? I mean Otto and me. How come the city let us in, being human and all?’
‘Another question that I do not know the answer to,’ said the Bloodborn. ‘Either the city now accepts humans or, more likely, when you take your vow as a Knight of the Church you somehow become less human. More saintly. Ethereal in some way.’
‘Perhaps,’ agreed Muller. ‘So now what? The lady at the library said that when we get here we shall know what to do next.’
‘And that is the third unanswerable question in a row,’ said Sylvian. ‘If you are looking to fill me with feelings of inadequacy then you are doing well, my friend.’
‘We go there,’ said Emily, pointing at a nondescript door in one of the buildings.
‘Why?’ Asked Troy.
‘I can feel him,’ answered Em. ‘Just like I can feel the rest of the Pack. The only difference is that I am sure that he is allowing me to feel him. It was like he opened up to me. A sense of age.
Wisdom. Power. And sadness.’
‘Lead the way,’ said Troy.
The group proceeded to the door. Emily was about to knock when it opened slowly, revealing a single room. Dimly lit by a single oil lamp. Rustic, large chairs and a single ancient Oak table. A fire crackled in an open fireplace. Standing in the middle of the room was a man.
He wore a long cloak and his gray hair hung to his waist, as did his beard. He stood tall but slightly hunched, as if he were carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders. He was massive. Taller than both Tag and Otto and wider than both put together. But when you looked at him it was almost impossible to stop staring at his eyes. Golden orbs that seemed to pulse with an inner light. They literally bathed the room in a subtle gilded wash. A living light.
Troy bowed deeply. ‘Methuselah,’ he greeted the huge man.
‘My son. You have arrived as foretold.’ He rest his massive hand on Troy’s head. A greeting. Or perhaps a benediction of some sort. Then he turned to the rest of the group and greeted them in turn. ‘Emily the Shadowhunter, well met. Sylvian the Bloodborn Duc. Otto, the blasphemer. Muller, the pious. And Tag,’ he smiled and nodded. ‘Tag the brave.’
His voice rumbled like distant thunder, so deep as to be felt physically like a minor earth tremor.
‘Foretold by whom?’ Asked Troy.
Methuselah laughed, a vibrant rolling chuckle. ‘By me of course, young Wolf. Now pray all sit,’ he gestured towards the chairs surrounding the table. They followed his instructions.
From beneath his cloak he drew out a small intricately carved wooden box. Not much bigger than a matchbox. He placed it on the center of the table as he sat down. Then he pulled out a Meerschaum pipe and proceeded to chew on the stem without lighting it.
No one said anything as they respectfully waited for the ancient Werewolf to speak.
‘We do not have much time,’ he said eventually. ‘In the box resides that which you seek.’
‘The Potestatum?’ Asked Sylvian.
‘The very thing,’ confirmed Methuselah. ‘I am its ultimate guardian. As such I am not allowed to pass it on to anyone unless judgment time is upon us.’