“Mmmm, Bill, the Bishop is currently engaged in business.”
The smarmy secretary stood in the path of the door, forcing Bill to stop. Marshall looked up at the man with disgust, he was a calculated and cowardly excuse for a man. He would have known what had happened to Bill’s family, and yet, did not show an ounce of concern. Bill tried to press on past him but Bradley put his hand up to Marshall’s chest to stop him. Working purely on instinct, Bill grabbed the man’s fingers and wrenched them back, caused him to buckle down on to one knee.
“You’re a snivelling excuse for a man, don’t you ever dare put a finger on me!”
Bradley winched in pain. Bill pushed him over with his other hand, throwing the man to the office floor. He looked up to the Bishop’s door that was firmly shut, he could not wait any longer. Bill took a few paces up to it and ripped open the big wooden door. The Bishop inside jumped in shock, as well as the priest who sat talking to him. Williams looked up at him in absolute amazement. Bill pointed to the priest who now stood before the Bishop.
“Get out, now!” shouted Marshall.
Neither the Bishop nor the priest could muster any words, being utterly at his mercy. The priest moved, shaking slightly, before slinking off past Marshall and through the doorway. As he stood staring at the Bishop, Bradley got to his feet and picked up the phone on his desk. He began to call for security when Bill turned sharply and took several quick steps back into Bradley’s office. He drew his revolver in mid stride and took the secretary’s shirt collar in one hand, forcing him back over his desk, straining his back and holding the revolver to his head.
“I have had quite enough of you, pathetic excuse for a man, it’s time you realised which side you are on! Tell them to stand down!”
“Why, what are you going to do about it?” asked Bradley.
Marshall hit him hard in the nose with the grip of his gun, causing him to drop the phone as his nose cut open and blood poured from both the wound and his nostrils, staining his impeccably clean white shirt.
“I won’t ask again!”
The secretary looked through the open doorway to the Bishop for an answer. Williams nodded, not seeing that he had any other choice. Bradley picked up the phone.
“Security, stand down, I repeat, stand down.”
“It’s time for the Bishop and I to have a chat, I don’t want any interruptions, or any surprises on my way out. Next time I will not be so forgiving,” said Bill.
Marshall walked through into the Bishop’s office and slammed the door shut behind him. It was clear that Williams really did not know what to say or how to address him. In previous years, Marshall had always treated Williams as his superior, but that respect was now long gone.
“I cannot believe you are alive, we had no idea,” said Williams.
“Enough about me, I am here and that is all you need to know. It’s time for you to answer some big questions. Why has the massacre at my parish been covered up, and what is being done to punish Rainer and his Coven?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t bullshit me!”
“The church was a tragic accident. We assumed you died among the parish.”
“No, the Church always investigates any serious incident involving its own. That fire was started with petrol and a number of the victims had gunshot wounds, any investigation would have told you this, what is going on here?”
“I’m sorry, an investigation is ongoing, but it has found no evidence of violence.”
Marshall rushed at the Bishop, throwing him against one of the bookcases, causing several books to fall off to the floor. Bill’s gun was already at his throat, and man was trembling.
“You would strike a man of the cloth?”
“I will strike anyone who stands in my way!”
“I have nothing to tell you, it was an accident, we are very sorry for your loss.”
Marshall dragged him over to the solid oak desk that was the Bishop’s workstation. He kicked out his knees from behind, forcing him to the floor, and placed his hand on the top of the desk. Bill reached for the heaviest object he could see, a large metal paperweight. He held it up to threaten the man who was still trembling in fear.
“What are you doing?” he shouted.
Marshall was disgusted by the lies that Williams was telling. He slammed down the paperweight onto the man’s little finger, breaking it instantly. He reeled in pain. Bill let his hand go, letting him cradle it as he writhed about in pain.
“This is a sin against God!”
“You have lied to me. You have acted with disgrace and disdain towards my family and parishioners. You have let a Church of God be burnt to the ground without recourse, you are not a man of God, you’re a pathetic excuse for a man. Tell me what I want to know now, and I will spare your life.”
“Alright, alright! It was Rainer and his Coven who did it in retaliation for killing Anton!”
“And you will do nothing in return?”
“What can we do? Rainer controls half of the city. He is wealthy and powerful. If we make a move against him we’ll have a war on our hands!”
Marshall shook his head in astonishment. This was the day he lost all faith in the Church, of organised religion. It was the day he stared into the face of corruption, weakness and the selfish nature of man. God would never have a man such as this represent him.
“You are a pathetic excuse for a Bishop. With men like you in charge, the human race has no hope! You may not want a war, but war is upon you. You can choose to continue with the coward’s way, or you can step up and take the side of justice and morality!”
“I cannot, I will not have war! When you leave this building, you will never be welcome again. I cast you down from the Brotherhood! May you burn in hell!” shouted Williams.
Marshall was disgusted by the display of self-centred, backstabbing behaviour he had witnessed. He’d given years of service to the Church, doing what he knew was right. Now, at the very time when he needed them most, they were shunning him. It was a time to take matters in to his own hands, time to let God lead his hand. He stepped forward and smashed his boot into the Bishop’s groin heel first. The man hissed in pain, but could not get out a word.
“You will see me again, Bishop, but next time I will not be so forgiving.”
“If you do anything to threaten the peace, we will come after you!”
“Then do so, because I am an instrument of God, and any man who stands in my way will feel his wrath!”
Marshall stormed out of the room. Bradley looked at him with bitter hatred in his eyes. Marshall had always commanded respect among men, and whilst he still wanted it, he did not want it from the cowardly and pathetic cretins who ran the establishment.
Bradley was still holding a bloody tissue over his nose when Marshall ripped open the door to the hallway. Four guards stood before him, looking in at the state of the Bishop’s secretary. They all recognised Marshall and knew of his reputation. He looked at them intently, ready for a fight, but not wanting one. It was one thing to hate those in charge for being spineless, but the soldiers they employed didn’t know any better.
Nodding to the security, they accepted that he was not a threat, and they didn’t want to tangle with such a formidable opponent if it could be avoided. Four against one would always be considered good odds, but they didn’t like their chances against one of the best fighters in the Brotherhood. The guards’ posture relaxed and their hands moved away from their holstered pistols. Marshall walked on by and down the stairs of the huge building. As he approached the front door, Tommy appeared before him.
Marshall’s face turned from a serious scorn to a pleasant smile, seeing his friend was a welcome break from the misery and cowardice he had witnessed.
“We thought you were a goner,” said Tommy.
“Nobody can kill me, Tommy, you should know that by now.”
“Sorry to hear about your family, it was a horrific accident.”
&nb
sp; “Accident? I see the Bishop lies spread quickly.”
“What are you saying?”
“My parish was burnt to the ground before my eyes with my family in it, retaliation from Rainer.”
“Why weren’t we told this?”
“The Bishop doesn’t want to risk war with the Lords.”
“What will you do now?”
“Hunt down every bastard responsible and ensure they are laid to rest for good.”
“Without the consent of the Brotherhood?”
“Tommy, the Bishop has just crapped all over the oath of the Brotherhood.”
“So what, you’re just going to go it alone?”
“Yes, I have to. I will not ask any of you to follow me into Hell. The Brotherhood needs to regain the glory and principles it was founded on. Without people like you, it will crumble into obscurity.”
“Then I wish you every luck, let us know if we can do anything to help.”
“Thanks.”
Tommy extended his arm in friendship and they shook hands before Bill headed on out the door. Tommy watched as his friend left. He desired with all his heart to help, but he knew he could not. Marshall was going to break a great many laws in the coming weeks, a necessary evil, and something he needed to do alone. Ultimately, it was vital that the Brotherhood stayed strong, and Tommy knew it was essential for him to be part of it. He watched through the open door as Bill climbed onto his Harley and rode off.
“Tommy! The Bishop wishes to see you immediately!” shouted Bradley.
He looked up, the Bishop’s secretary was leaning over the balcony, his face bloodied. He had a sense of urgency about him, which Tommy had not seen before. The Bishop and his secretary had always been the calmest and most calculating of people, but he was already getting the sense that it was all about to change. Bill had thrown a spanner in the works.
“I’ll be right up!”
“Now, Tommy!” shouted Bradley.
He turned to see Bill and his bike vanish into the distance before heading up towards the office. The room was a mess and drops of Bradley’s blood lay across the floor and desk.
“Go straight through,” said Bradley.
He walked through into the Bishop’s office. Williams looked flustered and in pain, Tommy had not witnessed Bill’s confrontation, but he could already imagine the situation. He knew that Marshall was an honest and good man, but neither would he stand for bullshit. He believed his friend first, and knew therefore that the Bishop must have known the cause of the fire at the church.
“Tommy, I assume you now know that Bill Marshall lives?” asked Williams.
“Yes, I just passed him in the hallway.”
“We are all glad that he was not consumed by the fire which destroyed his church and killed his family. However, he is acting irrationally and without the consent of the Church. He has some crazy idea in his head that a Vampire Coven was the cause of his woes, and I suspect he is going to get himself in trouble.”
“Bill is many things, Your Eminence, but not crazy or foolish.”
“Quite. But we must all be wary. A tragic accident such as this can lead men to do crazy things. Marshall has left the Brotherhood and chosen to ignore the Council of the Church. Over the coming weeks I want you to keep an eye on him. There may come a time when he comes back to us, but it is your task to protect humans and Vampires alike, protect the peace. I place you in charge of your team, do us proud.”
“Thank you, but what of Marshall? What do you wish me to do?”
“Only your duty, protect the peace, protect life in all forms. If he commits any crime, you detain him as any other suspect, he is no longer one of us. I know this is a hard task, but the peace of the very nation could be at stake. If Marshall begins openly attacking Vampires, they will see it as an attack by the Church itself. Make sure that does not happen!”
Tommy nodded in agreement, it was a hard task to accept, but he knew there was no other choice.
“Good luck, and go with God.”
Tommy nodded again, not having an answer for the situation. He wanted nothing more than to follow his friend to whatever end he had in mind, but knew it was a mistake. He could feel major problems brewing in the Brotherhood and the Church itself, their control and power over the Vampire situation was becoming ever weaker.
* * *
Bill was on the road again, and once more alone. He could have asked for his friend’s help, but he knew it was more than fair to ask. He also knew how important it was that he had allies among the Brotherhood. He had spent years working with a close team of friends, but that time was over. No longer would he be confined and controlled by anyone. The rules and restrictions placed on him by the Bishop had long held him back and endangered his life more than once. He would never have hesitated in killing Anton, nor any of his Coven. For all the weaknesses of working alone, he was now his own boss, he decided what was right or wrong, be became judge and jury.
It was quite clear that Rainer and his Coven wanted nothing more than to see him dead, and as far as they were concerned he already was, but he could only rely on that fact for so long. Sooner, or later, they would realise for themselves that by some miraculous deed he had survived, they would be quick to try and kill him a second time. This reasoning further confirmed quite how vital it was that he worked alone. He could not afford to have anyone who could be used as leverage against him.
Marshall was heading for a lockup on the edge of town. In his line of work, the one after dark at least, there was always the potential for disaster. The situation he was now in could never have been predicted, but the lockup had been established for any kind of emergency. The lockup was situated in a hidden corner of a warehouse. It was late in the afternoon when Bill arrived, there were a number of vans and workers around, a handy cover for his location.
Propping his bike up beside a small door, Bill unlocked a large padlock and heaved the door open. Another door stood several feet into the hallway with a keypad entrance. He input the number and walked through. Moments later, a strong metal shutter opened beside the door, revealing a small workshop, big enough for a couple of cars.
The workshop was fairly clean but had clearly seen some use and was generally dusty. Bill had used the facility to work on his bikes years before, but had since made it a safe house for emergencies. He went out through the open shutter and pushed his bike into the open workshop, before hitting the lowering button to give some privacy.
This place was now the only location which he considered safe in the long term, as he had kept it off the books and always untraceable in every way. Above the garage he had basic living quarters set up, it wasn’t much in the way of luxury, but it suited his purpose.
Bill walked to the end of the garage where a small stairway led up to the bedroom above, beside it was a secure door with another keypad. He entered the code and stepped through. The small room he had entered was an armoury. Despite being only six by eight feet, it contained everything he would ever need to fight. On the wall were a number of rifles, shotguns and sub machine guns. On shelving below them, several handguns were laid out with boxes of ammunition stacked below them.
On the opposing wall were hunting crossbows, spears, wooden stakes, knives and a range of other hand-to-hand weapons. The Brotherhood paid for and provided all of his equipment as an active member, but this horde was something he had built up himself over the years. Bill had hoped to never need it, but he always knew how vital it could be in a time of need.
He took his coat off and pulled up the chair to the small desk in the armoury. He laid out the guns one by one, stripping and cleaning each. He had not been to the lockup in over a year, so he spent the rest of the day prepping his equipment. Around the room were several box loads of ammunition, he had collected several thousand rounds of silver ammunition over the years, in his favourite calibres.
Using silver ammunition was an expensive affair. When he first started in the Brotherhood they used both regular and silv
er ammunition, but it led to two deaths when members of the Brotherhood were caught with the wrong ammunition in their weapons. From that moment, on they only ever used silver, accepting the extra costs of doing so.
The only source of sustenance he had were stocks of military MREs and bottled water, it wasn’t the most satisfying of meals, but provided all that he needed. Loneliness was already overshadowing Marshall’s feelings. He had gone from having a family, friends and church followers, to being alone. He knew that this would be his life from now on, it would be this or death.
Having finished cleaning and preparing the weapons in his armoury, Bill retired to the rudimentary bedroom upstairs. A small TV stood next to the bed and beside it were several bottles of whiskey. He flicked on the TV and poured himself a glass. Sitting down on the bed, he flicked through the channels until he found a news station.
After seeing the ruins of his church on the evening news the night before, he expected to find further information on the incident, but after watching the headlines there was nothing. It was reported as a tragic accident that was simply forgotten overnight. He knew it would have taken a lot of influence to cover up the incident, as it was plain to anyone but a fool what had happened.
The last thing Bill remembered at his church was the sound of sirens and firefighters storming towards the raging flames. They were almost certainly the first on site, and it would have been clear to them that gas had been used to set the blaze, as well as the fact that the occupants were locked inside. He found it astonishing that a member of the emergency services would go along with such a story.
The more he thought about the whole affair, the more he could understand how it could happen. It would be easy to threaten and bribe any firefighter or cop there. Threatening their family with similar consequences would be enough to keep even the most decent and upstanding man quiet. The emergency services would clearly need to be his first stop. It would not be easy to get them talking, but it was the best place to start for information.
Judge of the Damned (Vampire Storm, Book 1) Page 6