When he had woken up that morning, Bill had assumed he would get the support of the Bishop and the Brotherhood in making the appropriate retaliation against Rainer’s Coven. Never could he have imagined that he would be betrayed, and abandoned by those who he had so religiously supported. When he left the his old church to convert to Catholicism and the Brotherhood he thought he had found a new family, one he could trust with his life. He was wrong.
The whole situation made him give some serious consideration as to who he could trust any longer. He wanted nothing more to do with Kingston, as clearly they did not have the best interests of individuals at heart, or the moral interests of society. The only people he now trusted in the world were his three colleagues, but he was all too aware that they would be pushed to the limits with bribery and threats if need be.
It was not at all a comfortable feeling to know he no longer had anyone who could be relied upon one hundred percent to have his back. He had nothing now, no church, no job, no colleagues. All that was left for him was his desire for revenge, to punish those who had brought destruction to him and his own. It was time for payback.
Chapter 5
It was a fresh day and Bill had finally come to accept that he was now alone. The only positive aspect was that he was not in any doubt about what he must do, and now he had nobody holding him back. He pulled on his covert Kevlar vest and a black shirt over the top, followed by his gun belt. The utility belt carried his usual load-out, a silver Fairbairn-Sykes knife, small wooden stake, and a cross draw holster.
Marshall had always been closely attached to his Ruger revolver, but it had been left at his home, and he could not risk going there again. He had no idea what had happened to his home now, but it no longer mattered, that was his old life.
Looking across the rack of handguns, Bill was thinking hard about what option to take. Finally, he picked up a Mateba Autorevolver. It was a highly unusual piece, many people would say ugly. The cylinder sat high and far back, as well as being exposed at the top of the frame. The barrel aligned with the bottom of the cylinder, a highly strange configuration.
The odd looking pistol looked in some respects as if it had come off the set of a sci-fi movie. However, Bill knew its potential. He had always been fond of revolvers, and the Mateba solved their one major weakness. The quirky revolver used the expended gases to rotate the cylinder, rather relying on the long trigger pull of the user. The low-slung barrel also kept recoil to a minimum. The 5” barrelled Mateba was chambered in .44 magnum, always popular with Bill.
He loaded up his new sidearm and slung it into his holster. Bill fitted several speed loaders into a pouch on his belt and then pulled on his leather coat. Lastly, he clipped two flash bang grenades onto his belt and stuffed a box full of silver .44s into his pocket. He finally felt ready, it was all the equipment he could carry without drawing serious attention to himself.
He picked up the remote control for the shutter to the garage and pushed his bike out, closing it behind him. It was finally time to get to work, to find some answers. Sitting on the bike, he was quickly starting to get attached to the old Harley. Moving from one loved bike to another was not an easy feat, but this one was already part of his life now. It was also convenient that he had a mode of transport that couldn’t be traced back to him.
The back wheel spun on the concrete ground and the bike stormed off down the rough industrial road. Bill figured he try the nearest fire station first, they would be more likely to talk than anyone else on the scene. He knew that Rainer had been the man who ultimately killed his family and burnt his parish to the ground, but he wanted more than just the leader.
Besides the death of his family, Marshall was appalled at the level of corruption that allowed such wild and unhinged fanatics to get away with murder. He knew that cowardice and complacency also played a part, few people wanted to put their neck on the line. This situation depressed him, as like the Brotherhood, these were people who were paid to uphold the law and protect society. He knew that cowardice would not be the issue in the fire station he was heading for, just the desire to turn a blind eye.
Marshall rode up onto the drive of the station, the trucks were parked up inside, a couple of the guys stood smoking in front of the building. One of them had already recognised him before he got off the bike.
“Father Marshall?”
“Yeah, how’s it going?”
“Fine, but we thought you’d died in the fire at your parish?”
“No, not this one.”
“What about the Mass? How come you weren’t there?”
“I was there alright, forced to watch as petrol was poured over the building and the doors barred.”
The man looked down, avoiding eye contact, he knew there had been some cover up of the truth. It astonished Bill that otherwise good men would let such an incident pass through their consciences. They would surely have known when arriving on site that the church had been barred and doused with gasoline, and yet they chose to stay quiet. Evidently, there was at least some pressure on them to be quiet. Convincing men with a lot to lose to stick their necks out on his behalf would be no easy feat, but fortunately, Bill knew the Chief there.
“The Chief about?” he asked.
“He’s up in his office, just go on up.”
“Thanks.”
Marshall walked on through the open shutter and past the gleaming fire trucks. Several of the crew sat around nearby, passing the time away in conversation and a card game. They looked up at Marshall as he strolled past, but no one seemed to recognise him. This was his first appearance in public in his home district since the whole incident. He knew that his enemies would know of his presence before long, hiding was of no use.
He knocked on the door to the Chief’s office and was welcomed in. The man’s name was Gordon Reynolds, he’d been in charge for two decades. He used to attend services at Marshall’s old church when his kids were growing up. He looked astonished to see Bill, clearly thinking him dead and gone. He put his coffee down on the desk and could not get a word out.
“Gordon, how are things?” asked Bill.
“Uhh, yeh, yeh, alright, but mmm, we thought you were in the church when it went up?”
“No, sadly not.”
“Well, glad to see you’re alive, what can I do for you?”
The old fire Chief was clearly nervous. Bill knew he was a decent and upstanding member of the community. Someone had leant on him, the conflict of interest weighing heavily on him. It was clear that despite not liking the events surrounding the church fire, he thought he had left all of the trouble behind.
“The fire at my church, what happened?”
“Bill, you sure you want to get into this? Wouldn’t it be better to let these things be?”
“Better for who? You? I want to know what the report says!” shouted Bill.
“Fire was started by accident, it spread quickly. Looks like it cut off the only open door pretty quick.”
“And how do you explain the chains across the door and the gasoline poured over the building?”
“What? How can you know about that?” asked Reynolds.
“So you knew?”
Reynolds got up and walked past Bill, shutting the door to his office, he didn’t want anyone else hearing the conversation. Marshall knew he was about to get some useful information, his trust in an old friend had come through. He knew his instincts about going to the firefighters first, was right, as they would be the most amenable to giving up information.
“Take a seat,” said Reynolds.
The Chief walked back around his table and sat down with a sigh as Marshall sat at the desk before him. Reynolds cupped his hands, staring down at them, he had something to say but was having a hard time finding the words.
“We know about the petrol, and the doors, but a guy arrived at the scene and told us to keep our mouths shut. We tried to argue the case but the police Captain, Beaumont, turned up too. Before we could put a word in
the Captain had ordered us to keep our mouths shut and toe the line.”
“And you trusted him?” asked Bill.
“We had no choice, everyone was coming down on us, what were we supposed to do?”
Marshall thought for a minute, the two men silent. The fact that the Chief had remained silent on the matter bothered him, but he quickly realised and understood his motivations. Reynolds had seen the result of angering whoever was involved, how could he bring that down on his own family?
“The man that told you to keep your mouth shut, what did he look like?” asked Bill.
“Older guy, smart and respectable, the Captain called him Williams.”
“My God!”
“What is it?”
“Williams, the Bishop who I work for.”
“What would he have been doing there?”
“He must have had some inclination of what was going on, the bastard!”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Bill, and I am deeply sorry about your family. I feel like shit for not going public on this, but you have seen what those people do.”
“Yes, with my own eyes, I was there when they set the building alight, when the muffled screams echoed inside.”
Reynolds shook his head in disgust.
“Who did this to you?”
“A Vampire Coven, their leader is called Karl Rainer, heard of him?”
“Well yeah, he owns half the city, you don’t want to tangle with him.”
“Too late, thanks for your help, Gordon, I won’t forget it.”
“And good luck to you. Let me know if I can do anything to help.”
Bill stood up and headed for the door, he could see that the Chief was already feeling somewhat relieved that he was able to tell his story to somebody, and feel some relief in that he was not being held accountable by the only survivor. The Chief wished he could do more to help, but he also knew that Marshall was about to walk through the very gates of Hell.
Marshall had gone in search of information, but he didn’t expect that information to implicate the Bishop with the atrocity. He always knew that Williams was a cold and calculating man, but he never suspected him of being quite so sinister and evil. Bill was not a man of compromise in his beliefs, and the Bishop had now crossed his boundaries.
He walked through the fire station, a number of the men recognising and greeting him. As he reached the open shutters of the building, he froze as he looked out across the street. A van was parked next to his bike.. It was unmarked but he could already tell it had thickened glass and additional armour. It was a subtly armoured vehicle, but his keen eyes could tell.
Feeling imminent danger, Bill’s hand reached under his coat to prepare to draw his revolver. The back door of the van opened and his fingers clenched around the grips. Three men got out from the vehicle, one was Bradley, the Bishop’s secretary, the other two certainly armed beneath their suit jackets. They stood and stared at Bill, clearly were there to see him.
Marshall looked up and down the street, making sure it was public and therefore safe enough to approach the men without a weapon drawn. It was a light day and a number of people walked up and down the street, many of the fire crew could see them in full view. There was a time when he would have done everything a Church official asked or wanted of him, but now he didn’t trust their words or intentions.
The very fact that Bradley knew of his location made Bill cautious to begin with. There was no justifiable reason to follow him unless they had ill intentions. If they feared he would lash out against the Vampire Coven then it would be a Brotherhood team going after him, not the Bishop’s right hand man.
Marshall released the grasp on his Mateba and pulled his coat from his pocket. He crossed the road to confront the three men, who would evidently not let him leave without some words. The expression on their faces was serious, and the two guards appeared ready to draw weapons at a moment’s notice.
He stepped across the street, slowly and cautiously. Bradley grinned at him. In anyone else it would be a sign of friendship, but the Bishop’s secretary never smiled. The smile was was conjured from arrogance, he was a foul wretch of a man.
“Bill Marshall, Bishop Williams requests an audience with you,” said Bradley.
“What makes you think I would be stupid enough to go with you?”
“Then you refuse an audience with the Bishop?”
“I do.”
“Then I will convey his message. Your family and parishioners are dead, an unfortunate circumstance, and we are deeply sorry. However, what is done is done, both sides have seen pain and suffering, the Bishop asks you to let it go, for further conflict will only bring more pain and suffering, with countless lives lost.”
“He wishes me to sweep my tale under the rug? Not going to happen.”
“You must accept that if you break the rules of the pact, we will come after you.”
“I only ever worked in the service of the Brotherhood, I only killed when authorised or in self-defence. What has been done to me, my family and my church was not at all within the remit of the pact. Rainer’s Coven broke that pact, and if you are not willing to do something about it then I will.”
“Then you will feel the wrath of God.”
“No, you are not the wrath of God, you are corrupt and selfish politicians, desperately clawing to hold onto your little bit of power. I will do what is right and just, and if you choose to take the path of evil and stand in my way, so be it.”
“Goodbye, Bill, for this will be the last time we meet.”
“I wouldn’t bank on it.”
The smarmy secretary grinned as he climbed back into the van, his two guards watching Marshall like a hawk until the doors were shut. The heavy armoured van drove off into the distance, Bill simply watching as it left. He was amazed at how quickly his superiors could turn on him when it suited their aims. It was quite clear that they were not doing the work of God, but only pursing their personal ambitions.
Marshall looked back towards the station and up to the window of the Chief’s office upstairs. Reynolds was looking down at Bill and had been watching the situation unfold, he was likely concerned for his safety. Bill nodded in gratitude to his old friend before climbing onto his bike.
There was now no doubt in Marshall’s mind that Karl Rainer had to be stopped. Not only that, but his experiences had given him a real insight into the Vampire’s character. He had hunted the ones the Church deemed dangerous for years, but he had long wondered if there was any good in any of them at all. The night of the slaughter at his church had shown how abominable the creatures were, and he wanted nothing else but to see them burn.
Despite knowing what he wanted ultimately, Bill did not yet have a plan. Not only that but he could still feel the aches and pains of his wounds, though he would never let it be seen publicly. He headed on back to his lockup, wanting time alone to think over the situation.
Getting back to his new home he laid up the bike and got onto the laptop he kept there. For the rest of the afternoon he researched Rainer and his Coven. They were a common name among the city as being powerful investors and businessmen. Bill quickly came to a recent news story relating to the Rainer name. It revealed that Rainer had recently opened a high-class casino for the elite on the top of a luxurious hotel. The establishment had been open just three weeks and was attracting the rich and famous from far and wide.
The casino was certainly a matter of pride and wealth for Rainer, it would make the perfect first target. For such a prime location, there would never be a quiet night. Marshall was eager for action, but his instincts told him to wait until the following evening, another day for his bruises to settle and time to plan.
Marshall shut the lid of his laptop and stood up. His legs were stiff from sitting on the sofa for hours, intently searching and studying the information that was so publicly available about Rainer. It was not enough just to bring that one Vampire alone to justice. Marshall held his entire Coven accountable for their d
eeds.
He knew he would have to take many lives over the course of the next few days, many more than the Coven alone, he didn’t care. Any man or Vampire who stood in his way was defending the acts of monsters, or at least enabling them to continue in their evil ways. Marshall was sick of the scourge who were the undead.
In his time in the Brotherhood they referred to Vampires who broke the rules of the pact as ghouls, the creatures which preyed on humans. To Bill, all Vampires were now ghouls, for whether openly doing so or not, they all brought pain, suffering and misery to the lives of humans. It was time for their reign to end.
Marshall had long considered the idea of hunting and killing the Vampires on a mass scale, but the rules of the Brotherhood had always stopped him doing so, as well as the risk it posed to his family. He no longer had anything to lose, he was a pure weapon against evil.
He thought long and hard about the potentially suicidal life he was undertaking, but the more he thought about it the more he liked it. Marshall had no want or need to die, but he didn’t fear dying. This would make him a fearful opponent. Despite painfully missing his family, being alone was perfect for what he must now do.
That was enough work for the day, he walked out of the lockup, his weapon belt still strapped on and hidden beneath his long coat. He walked on down the street to a bar he knew of only a few blocks away. Despite passing the establishment many times over the years, he had never gone inside the bar, it was too much of risk. Now it was no longer a concern, there was nothing tying him to anything or anyone that mattered.
It was an Irish joint, with several beers on tap and a welcoming feel. There were a dozen people spread throughout the small bar. As he looked around, it seemed from the memorabilia on display the owner was a biker, a good start. Bill walked up to the bar and ordered a beer. He sat down at the bar, alone. It was in some ways lonely, but also a relaxing experience. With Helen and the children at home and all his church and work duties, he rarely got the opportunity to have a quiet drink.
Marshall thought long and hard about the casino, and what his plan would be. So much so that he entered a dream world, oblivious to all that was around him. Every now and then he lifted the beer to his lips, but it was more from routine and muscle memory than really thinking about it. Hitting the casino would be a major statement. It would put him in the firing line of Rainer, but it would also be an ideal way to undermine his power and image in the city.
Judge of the Damned (Vampire Storm, Book 1) Page 7