Silence ensued, which I broke quickly by storming forward.
“I’ve spoken with the head vampire,” I told him. Dalton didn’t say another word while I brought him up to speed on everything that had happened since we’d last spoke. All the while, I watched his expression, waiting for it to change. It didn’t.
“What do you need, Sir Jack?”
All I could do was shrug.
“I see.” Dalton broke his stare and reached inside his robe. There was a gentle clanging of something metallic, a ringing of shrapnel like it was raining paperclips, until he produced a set of jingling keys. Focused, he fingered through them and found the one he wanted, and then held it out to me by its teeth. “Use this to gain access to the library.”
I took the key, studying the thick gold and wondering if it was real. “Why do I need the library?”
“If you wish to pursue this Ancient, you will need to study it well. Make yourself comfortable and work your way through all of the volumes on the matter. You’ll know when to leave by estimating your own level of confidence. Only when you’re certain on what to do will you be fully prepared.”
I gave Dalton a cold stare as I tried to decipher that old-man, mumbo-jumbo crap. I soon gave up, patted him on the back and then embarked on my journey around the Vault to find the library. It was a long, winding trail through cold, dark corridors and past open windows where the mountain’s breeze blew in and knocked me forcefully to one side.
An hour or so later, I used the key on a locked door and sighed with relief as it creaked open. I went inside and was immediately awed by the towers of books that lined the walls all the way around this massive room. It was barely even a room, in fact – the far end of the wall wasn’t even visible beyond the candlelight, and must have gone on for miles. I gulped, intimidated by the pressure of finding what seemed to be a needle in a haystack. The sudden appearance of a man in a robe, a red sash tied around him, startled me.
“May I help you?” he asked.
“I hope so. I’m looking for some books on The Ancient. It’s a vamp–”
“Follow me.”
The man turned his back on me and began to walk. I followed quickly, watching him as he perused the shelves. How he managed to find anything in this library eluded me, but I was grateful for his help all the same. I only wished he would make some small-talk as the short walk became a trek.
“You must really like books,” I said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
The robed man didn’t respond, although he did finally stop, reaching out toward a nearby shelf and removing four epic volumes from their place. He struggled with the weight, turning, before he dumped them into my arms. I barely caught them.
“Return them to their rightful place when your research is complete.” That was all he said before he rotated and, without another word, walked back the way we’d come. The man didn’t take so much as a single glance back at me, trusting me entirely with the books.
“So much for the chit-chat,” I mumbled, dropping the heavy volumes onto a table. I removed my coat and drooped it over the back of a chair, then sat down and took the book from the top of the pile. I blew across the dust-covered surface and coughed my lungs up as a gray cloud exploded across the desk. I could read the cover now, written in gold-lined text: NOSFERATU: A STUDY IN VAMPIRISM. The author’s name was inscribed below, but I refused to believe it was legitimate; MERLIN AMBROSIUS.
“Nah,” I said, opening the cover.
I read solidly over the next few hours about the origins of vampires, their eating and sleeping habits, and how such things had evolved over the past few hundred years. By the time I reached anything lending any insight into The Ancient himself, my eyelids were feeling like they had ten-ton boulders strung to them. I just couldn’t stop yawning.
After three volumes of these books, all I had to go on was the one passage that I had noted down using a quill and inkwell:
“Of the many towns and cities that have reported sightings of The Ancient, there remains only one constant. Vival Creek, a small and mysterious town on the outskirts of Illinois in the United States, is the only location in which The Ancient is said to repeatedly appear. Where some believe that this town is the origin of the species, others weave tales that this is the home of The Ancient. There is very little to support this theory, however, as sightings have never been more than spoken rumors, and the vampires themselves claim to be unaware of their leader’s whereabouts at any time.
There are, however, many capture-glasses of R’hen that have recorded images of The Ancient travelling in such a direction. Despite numerous appearances of the first ever vampire in other towns, most occur only once. The repetitive nature of Vival Creek’s sightings remain suspiciously convenient to this day.”
The entry went on to talk about Van Helsing’s ongoing visits to Vival Creek, but that was where I drew the line. I could just about believe in Merlin being real – if I really put my mind to it – but Van Helsing? Not a chance.
I skimmed through the last book, spotting more and more references to this town. The more I saw, the more I was convinced that making my way over there wouldn’t be a total waste of time. If nothing else, I could at least get to explore a little, and if it turned out the rumors were exactly that – rumors – then I could rule it out and return to the library. Nothing wasted, nothing gained. No problem.
The last thing I read in the fourth and final volume was a warning about slaying The Ancient. The passage explained that in order to kill the creature, I would have to puncture its heart with a weapon of enchanted nature. As I read this, I pulled the Sword of Lucada from my pocket and pressed on the button. The blade shot out in one large, glowing length of steel, sparkling with red and blue like electricity fused with blood.
“Yeah,” I said to myself, getting up out of my chair. “This should do the trick.”
I replaced the books on the shelf and thanked the librarian as I left. All I had to do now was find Vival Creek, investigate the town and – if I just so happened to stumble upon the world’s first ever vampire – stick it with the pointy end.
Piece of cake.
Chapter Nine
Not long after nightfall, a bus dropped me off at the edge of town in Vival Creek. The second I stepped foot on the sidewalk, I got a strong whiff of fir trees and fresh soil. Looking around, it wasn’t hard to spot the multitude of flowerbeds that grew along the side of the entire road. The people of this town obviously cared a lot for their greenery, which struck me as suspicious for a community that lived their lives surrounded by rumors of vampires. It had me thinking that the botany obsession was probably a cover-up. The tourism business must have waned with all those stories going around. Add some one-star Yelp reviews about Vlad the Impaler and you’ve got the perfect recipe for a tourism nightmare. Planting a few flowers to make the place seem brighter could make all the difference. Anything to make the online photographs look legit.
With nothing but the Sword of Lucada tucked away in my coat pocket, I wandered through town and explored. The streets were mostly dead, without a single person in sight. No stores or restaurants lined the barren streets, no pedestrians or kids playing outside. It was eerily quiet, and if I had to be honest, it sent a chill right through me.
The place resembled a ghost town.
I continued walking until I found a bar. Not only were the lights on, but country music blared from inside. Drunken customers were coming in and out, feeding cigarettes between their lips and cupping their hands to light them. A jolt of renewed hope shot through me – bars were always a great source of information. More often than not there was a blabbermouth who wanted to give up all of the local secrets. Invigorated that I would be so lucky, I went inside and took a seat at the bar, where the bartender – a short but stocky middle-aged man who somehow reminded me of a sasquatch – appeared in front of me.
“Get you a drink?” he said without a smile.
“Bourbon.”
As the ma
n set off to get my drink, I glanced around at my surroundings. As I always had, I looked for a secondary exit, then for the nearest backup weapon – although all I could find was an abandoned beer bottle – and assess who might be the biggest threat. I found none of the latter, save for the rowdy group of truckers in the corner, who were yelling as they arm-wrestled like young boys.
Great, I thought. Nothing like a drunken arm-wrestle to keep the peace.
The bartender returned with my order and I slipped him a twenty, telling him to keep the change. He thanked me and then stood in silence, his eyes rolling over me until he eventually spoke. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“What gave me away?”
“Just a sense. What brings you to town?”
I hesitated. Talking about The Ancient was obviously out of the question if I wanted to not get thrown into a loony bin. Unless… “Book research.”
“Oh?” The bartender’s brow furrowed and he folded his arms.
“Yeah, I’m interviewing people who claim to have seen vampires. My aim is to look for consistencies between their stories and pair up the clichés. Anything else will be delved into and looked at with a keener eye.” I watched the man’s expression. It didn’t change. “I heard a rumor about the oldest of vampires being spotted around here, so I came to investigate. You wouldn’t know anything about that?”
The bartender stared at me with vacant eyes, as if he were carefully considering his answer while holding back his contempt. He then shook his head, leaned in closer to me until his mouth hovered by my ear, and said, “Go.”
My heart rate picked up rapidly. “What?”
“Get out of town and don’t mention The Ancient to anyone.”
“I didn’t say they called it The Ancient. What do you know?”
The bartender snatched the glass out from in front of me, stuffing twenty dollars back into my hand. Before I got a chance to ask what the hell was going on, a drunken guy from the corner was now at my side and standing way too close.
“Hey, George. Get me another beer.” He swayed as he waited for his order, his dizzy gaze falling all over the place until he lost his balance and his sweaty body fell onto me. “Whoa, steady there, pal,” he said. “Don’t touch me.”
I grunted heavily, an expression that had forced people to back off in the past.
“Oh… I’m drunk. Sorry.” The man’s beer appeared beside him and he snatched it up immediately, raising the bottom and pouring it down his gullet. When he’d had his fill, he slammed the bottle on the side and burped into the air.
I shot a glance at the bartender, who waved his fingers, telling me to go.
That, I ignored.
“Hey,” I said, tapping the drunkard on the shoulder.
Once again, he swayed and struggled to find me. When he did, he looked surprised. “Oh, hey, man. Long time, no see. How’s the wife?”
What? Who exactly does he think I am? It didn’t matter – I had every intention of using it to my advantage, pressing him until I got what I needed. “She’s good, real good. Actually, she’s been kind of quiet, keeping her nose tucked into one of those online college courses.”
The man laughed, leaning his head forward and opening his mouth wide. His putrid breath assaulted my nostrils; hot wings and cheap beer, by the smell of it. “That’s hilarious, man. I never woulda thought of her as the type, you know? What’s she studying?”
“Mythology.”
He rolled his eyes at that, though it could have been through loss of control.
“Yeah,” I went on. “She’s decided to do her case study on vampires.”
“Heh. Well, there’s plenty of material here.”
Bingo. Whatever the hell he was on about, he obviously knew something. The only question was, how could I ask him without giving away the fact that I wasn’t… whoever he thought I was?
I shuffled in closer.
“Hey, maybe you’d know; she’s looking for a place to research. Said she wanted somewhere to camp out and see if she can get any good sightings of The Ancient.” I knew that mentioning The Ancient’s name was really pushing my luck, but what could he do? The guy was plastered. “Anywhere spring to mind?”
The man, whose attention seemed to have been stolen by the skinny girl in tight jeans waltzing past him with a flirtatious wink, returned his unsteady gaze to me. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, yeah, right. Hey, Big Jim will probably want to see you. Been years, right? Come on.”
He grabbed the sleeve of my coat and began dragging me back to his corner. I couldn’t face his friends. The risk of getting caught was way too high. Instead, I yanked my hand away and shook my head. “Some other time.”
The smile quickly dropped from his face as he was forced to let go. The frown that followed was one of insulted shock, but what alarmed me the most was the way his friends in the corner were sizing me up. Two of them stood, all eyes fixed on me. I suddenly realized that the music had come to a stop, and I was now in the spotlight, standing right in the center of the bar with a load of pissed-off truckers staring me down. I knew I could take them if it came to it, but after what Keira had taught me, I never wanted to hurt a mortal again.
I made my way for the door, insults falling like shell casings behind me as the cool air hit my lungs. I stopped in my tracks, breathing it in and trying to calm myself down. The drunkard had known something – I was sure of it – and one swift movement had taken all of my chances away from finding out the insider information. It was like the Gods of R’hen had dangled a clue in front of my face, and then quickly pulled it away in some cruel jest.
The door behind me opened gently and then creaked closed a moment later. Before I knew it, an old man with long, gray-yellow hair and a beard longer than my own stepped beside me. He lit up a smoke and offered me one from the packet. When I shook my head, he placed one between his lips and sparked up. He sucked it in and then blew out a beautiful cloud of white smoke that kissed the air before dissipating.
“Heard you was talking of some vampires,” he said. Only he said it like ‘vamp-ires’.
I craned my neck, studying him. “Maybe.”
The man chuckled. “Then maybe I can help you. What are you, boy?”
“What do you mean?”
This time it was his turn to crane his neck. “You know; werewolf, mage, demon?”
“I’m… something else.”
“Like what? A Cardkeeper?”
I said nothing, only staring at the man blankly and pondering his identity. How did he know so much? Bars were frequently full of gossip but rarely would you enter one to find a man with any depth of knowledge. Often, the only people who knew about the underworld were people who were from the underworld, but my spider-sense wasn’t tingling – there was no magic on him whatsoever.
The man grinned and turned back to stare at the dark abyss. “Yeah, I had you pegged pretty quickly. You immortals walk around like you own the place, but let me tell you, you don’t own a goddamn thing.” He took another drag on his smoke, blowing it out through his sore, red lips.
“Who are you?” I asked, utterly intrigued.
“Hehe. Tell you what…” The old man flicked his smoke away, rolled down his sleeves and dived a hand into his pocket for his keys. “My pickup truck is over there. Why don’t you come see me when you’re finished? I’ll explain everything.”
“Finished?” I felt my eyebrows contort as confusion stole over me. “Finished with what?”
Just as the old man poked a thumb over his shoulder, the bar’s door swung open. I spun around quickly to see the glass shatter with the sheer force of it, and all of the truckers were storming toward me with ire in their eyes. Some had their sleeves rolled up, while others were tightly clutching pocketknives.
But there was one thing they all had in common.
They looked like they wanted me dead.
“I’ll be in my truck,” the old man said, leaving me alone. “Good luck.”
Chapter Ten
I turned around slowly, counting them. Eight. Shit. That was a challenge when it was eight vampires or eight trolls or eight gargoyles. But eight humans? I would have to really pull my punches if I didn’t want to smack a hole right through them. I could see it now – their hollowed-out bodies slumping to the ground with nothing but shock in their eyes. I couldn’t do that to them. Not after what I’d done with the imps some weeks ago.
My conscience wouldn’t let that happen.
“Listen guys,” I said, not moving a muscle. “You don’t have to do this. Nobody has to get hurt.”
The bigger guy – always the bigger guy – stomped forward, jabbing out his knife with a careless, stabbing motion. “You should have thought of that before you laid a hand on our buddy. Now you gotta pay the price.”
I threw my hands up in the air. “Oh, come on. I only removed his hand from my shirt.”
“You tried to kill him!” came a quivering voice from behind me.
Turning, trying to identify the speaker but failing, I said, “Nobody tried to kill anybody. You’re all overreacting. Now I’m asking you kindly – and please note for the record that I said this – please put your weapons down and back away.”
They all laughed.
“Think he’s scared?” one of them said.
More laughter.
I didn’t know how much more of this I could take. For one, I didn’t know if that knife could actually do me any damage. I was stronger than a human now, but how much stronger? If I was going to find out, I didn’t want to do it the hard way. I would have to put one of those guys down first, and then pray that one of the other armed men didn’t get a hit on me. Bleeding now would only slow me down more.
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