Death Beckons (Mortis Vampire Series, #1)

by J. C. Diem

  Prying the cross from my hand, I stuffed it down the back of my pants then shifted it until my t-shirt covered my skin. The metal was too cold to wear pressed up against my naked flesh. I no longer possessed any body heat to warm it. I sat on the bed glumly, studying my now matching palms. This had to mean something and I suspected it wouldn’t be good. Just one more portent of doom, I’m sure.

  Luc knocked softly on the door then entered at my unwelcoming grunt. He could tell something was wrong at a glance. “What has happened?” Closing the door, he crossed the room and sat on the end of the bed.

  “Oh, not much,” I said, trying to remain calm, “just this.” I held my hands up palm out and he was off the bed and pressed up against the door before I could blink. “Calm down, drama queen,” I said crossly. “They can’t hurt you.”

  “According to the prophesy, your hands can now destroy even the strongest of us.” He was staring at my hands like they were covered in leprosy. To him, they might as well have been.

  “I’m not planning on destroying anyone,” I snapped as I slid off the bed and headed for the door. Not yet, anyway. Give me another hour or two beneath this mountain and I might change my mind. Luc cringed away when I reached for the doorknob and I did my best to ignore him. “Except for that bitch of a Comtesse,” I continued on my way to the bathroom. “I’d like to make her strip off in a roomful of strangers.” The last was muttered beneath my breath. Not that I had any breath these days.

  When I emerged from my shower, Luc had composed himself and was sitting on the lumpy, cheap brown couch. The spooked look was gone and now he just appeared to be resigned. “We should eat before we seek admittance to the Prophet.”

  “I doubt many tourists stumble across this place after dark,” I said doubtfully.

  “Vincent and his servants have...” he searched for a suitable word, “volunteers that they feed from.”

  Eyeing Luc mistrustfully, I felt behind me to make sure the cross hadn’t fallen too far down the back of my pants. It was still firmly in place and required only a minor adjustment. “Volunteers, huh? I gotta see this.” I sincerely doubted anyone would volunteer to be vampire food. Oh, wouldn’t they, my mind whispered slyly. It showed me a picture of the four men I’d fed from the first time I’d gone hunting. They’d been pretty damn happy to be my snack for the night.

  As Luc opened the door, we came face to face with the boy who’d yanked on my hair last night. He dropped the begrimed hand he’d been about to knock with. “I bet you’re hungry.” He grinned, revealing brown teeth that still held the red traces of his last meal. “Come this way.” He spun away from the door and began trotting down the hall. He reminded me eerily of a slinking hyena, snapping looks at us over his shoulder to make sure we were following him.

  “I thought you said we could only have one servant each,” I said to make conversation.

  “There are exceptions.” At my raised eyebrow, Luc explained further. “The guardian of the Prophet may have up to ten servants. Vincent, as caretaker of the Prophet’s domain, can have up to ten as well. The Councillors may have up to twenty each.”

  “Jeez, it pays to be in power,” I muttered. It made a grim sort of sense, though. Someone as powerful as the Comtesse wouldn’t be satisfied with just one measly servant. She’d need lots of minions to boss around so she could feel all superior. It was a snide thought but I was still annoyed about being ordered to strip naked by her. That humiliation wasn’t going to fade anytime in the next century or two.

  Since it didn’t look like I had to pretend to be his servant at the moment, I walked at Luc’s side. Each time the boy approached a light, his shadow grew, stark and hideous. It was bent, twisted and almost unrecognizable as having belonged to a former human being. I could easily believe that our kind had come from aliens when I saw something this unnerving.

  “Are you seeing this?” I whispered from the side of my mouth.

  Sparing me a brief glance, Luc returned his scrutiny to the boy scuttling ahead. “Am I seeing what?”

  “His shadow,” I replied in as quiet a voice as I could.

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “What’s right with it?” I countered. At Luc’s blank look, I struggled to explain. “It’s all warped, bent and kind of crozzled. Vincent is the same and so was Silvius.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean.” Luc slowed to allow more distance to build between us and our young guide.

  “They don’t match their shadows,” I struggled to explain. “They don’t appear to be human like us.” Not that we were really human anymore. Not on the inside where it counted.

  “What do they appear to be then?” Luc asked, bewildered and clearly beginning to doubt my sanity.

  “Monsters,” I said with a shudder. All vampires were monsters, that was a given. But there was something seriously wrong with these people. I could feel it.

  “Are you two coming or are you going to stand there whispering together all night?” the boy called back over his shoulder. He didn’t like us having a private conversation, perhaps sensing he was the topic. Increasing our pace, we trudged onwards in morose silence. Luc was giving my visions, or whatever they were, some thought but he didn’t seem to be any closer to understanding them than I was.

  Reaching a set of narrow, twisting stairs, we descended for two levels and entered a dungeon. Rooms had been carved out of the rock to create crude holding cells. Metal bars prevented any of the penned humans from escaping. The walls, ceiling and floors were made of rock so there was no chance they could dig their way out. Each human had a cell to themselves and there were twenty-five cells on each side of the room.

  All fifty humans were naked, malnourished and filthy. They each had a bucket as a toilet and a threadbare blanket for a bed. My withering look told Lord Lucentio what I thought of his description that these poor sods were ‘volunteers’. Unfortunately, my blood hunger had to be fed and it wasn’t about to pass on a meal. Not even one that was this ragged and dirty.

  “Pick anyone you want,” the boy invited. Moans and pleas sounded out from the cells. Most of the humans clambered to their feet, reaching through the bars with thin arms, pleading for us to choose them. They might not really have volunteered to become vampire food but this was their existence now. The only pleasure they would be able to feel was the moment when our teeth sheared through their skin.

  Half healed bite marks adorned their necks, wrists and even the insides of their thighs. They’d all been bitten so often that their wounds never had a chance to heal properly. Luc pointed at a female without bothering to examine every cage. Like me, he just wanted to get this done.

  “A good choice,” the boy said with a giggle as if Luc was choosing from a selection of fine wines. “What about you?” he asked me. I pointed to one of the larger men who seemed like he could withstand another feed without dying on me. “He’s a feisty one,” the boy warned then giggled again. On the floor beside him, his shadow cavorted in apparent glee, clapping its hands soundlessly. This place is like a mini hell. Spending a substantial amount of time here would be unbearable. I prayed we could get what we needed from the prophet then escape from this nightmare quickly.

  Unlocking the door to the female’s cell, the boy stepped aside as Luc entered. The woman lurched forward with a cry that I took to be happiness. With a few murmured words, Luc calmed her and had her swaying eagerly towards him. Kissing her dirty palm, he turned her wrist and brought it to his mouth. He, at least, had either retained some compassion for humans or had relearned it over the centuries.

  It was over quickly and then the female was shuddering and gasping in pleasure as the vampire cop lowered her to the filthy blanket on the floor. He crouched beside her, murmuring more words. She went to sleep with a smile on her thin, careworn face.

  Knowing I could never hope to match Luc’s finesse, I waited impatiently for the boy to unlock my victim’s door. With a roar, the freed man leaped forward and caught me in a crushi
ng grip by the shoulders. I captured him with a glance and the fight drained out of him. He was suddenly crushing me to him in a desperate parody of passion instead of defiant rage. He went still when my lips grazed his neck. As gently as I could, I broke his skin and took a few swallows of blood. It was thinner than I was used to from being constantly drained but it did the job to fill the pit inside me. With an ecstatic smile, the man allowed himself to be placed back in his cell.

  Disappointed that we hadn’t torn into the pair in a feeding frenzy, the boy petulantly led us back up to the main level. Even his shadow stomped along in a sulk. I felt dirty after drinking from the human slave and not because my meal hadn’t bathed in weeks. So far, I hadn’t seen any reason why I shouldn’t wipe vampires from the face of the earth. If I really was the dreaded Mortis, that was. Despite all the portents and my ability to touch holy objects, I didn’t feel all that special.

  Leading us down a confusing series of tunnels that varied in height and width, the boy finally halted before an enormous door. Easily twenty feet high and banded in dull, pitted metal, it stood half open. A dark cavern lay on the other side. Gesturing for us to enter, the boy had a final smirk for us. “Vincent awaits you within.” Gee, who could turn down an invitation like that?

  Luc preceded me inside but only just. I was following him so closely I was almost stepping on his heels. I jumped when the door boomed shut behind us, closing off any chance of retreat. The cavern stretched off into the distance. It was wide enough that I couldn’t see the walls. Torches in crudely made wooden stands marched in a straight line to a throne roughly fifty feet away. If I wasn’t mistaken, I believed the figure seated comfortably on the large, gold monstrosity was Vincent. A six foot wide red carpet ran from the door right up to the throne.

  “It would appear that Vincent has come up in the world,” Luc murmured with quiet sarcasm.

  “What do you mean?”

  “That,” he nodded toward the golden throne, “is the Prophet’s throne.” After imparting that comforting piece of information, he started forward.

  In some of my wildest fantasies, I’d once imagined myself floating down a red carpet to a swanky event with a handsome man at my side. Now that it was actually happening, not that this could be described as a swanky event, it felt more like a horrible nightmare than a pleasant dream.

  I could sense other vampires huddled together just out of sight. In a cavern this large, hundreds of them could be hiding in the darkness. The torches were spaced out just enough to ruin my night vision. Luc seemed to be at ease, showing no distress at all. Only when I brushed against his arm could I feel how tense he was. I’d hate to play poker with him with his ability to hide his emotions. Unless it was strip poker. I wouldn’t mind playing that with him, heh, heh. I was lost for a few seconds in a fantasy of our naked limbs entwining. Then Vincent was looming over us and the fantasy disappeared.

  Slumped forward with his chin resting on one hand and the other sitting on the armrest, Vincent posed for us, looking a lot like the statue of The Thinker. He’d changed into a deep maroon cloak and had pulled the hood forward so his face was shadowed. Torchlight glinted in his black eyes, giving them a demonic red glow. If I hadn’t seen practically every horror movie ever made, I might have been impressed. But it was far too staged to be as scary as he’d intended.

  “Have you taken the Prophet’s place, Vincent?” Luc asked, getting straight to the point. I admired his courage and at the same time wished he’d kept his mouth shut. He probably felt it was his right as a Lord to question someone below him on the food chain of vampire royalty. Antagonizing a creature who had an unknown number of servants at his beck and call didn’t seem to be very smart. Not that Vincent had offered us any threats. But it was heavily implied in the way he had taken over the throne.

  “I am merely keeping his seat warm,” Vincent replied. I couldn’t see his face clearly but I heard the smirk well enough. Unseen vampires tittered from the darkness. There seemed to be more than the ten Vincent was entitled to. A lot more.

  “I would like to see the Prophet for myself,” Luc said and the unseen throng quieted. They waited with something as close to bated breaths as we creatures could get.

  “I am afraid that won’t be possible,” Vincent replied in tones of false regret. Behind him, his shadow stood and stretched as if cramped from sitting. It turned its head and stared down at us. I sidled closer to Luc, desperately pretending I couldn’t see the monstrosity.

  “Ah, but it is possible,” a new voice called from beyond the lights. Aged, male and heavily accented, it drew closer. “The Prophet is awake and he is asking for Lord Lucentio’s guest.”

  Vincent stood and was swallowed by his shadow. Only his black, beady eyes could be seen for a moment. Then the shadow receded, shrinking back to its normal size. “The Prophet has spoken in his native tongue, Danton?” he demanded.

  Clad in a white robe that was very monk-like, the new arrival swept into view. I assumed he was the prophet’s protector that Luc had mentioned briefly. “He has only said one word and I believe it is this young vampire’s name.” Turning to me, excitement shone from his dark eyes. “Is your name Nat?”

  “Um. Yes,” I said with great reluctance.

  “You’re named after an insect?” Someone called from the darkness and several vampires sniggered.

  “It’s short for Natalie,” I called back with some asperity.

  “She’s Australian,” Luc pointed out with the faintest of sneers. He was still annoyed with my habit of shortening his name.

  “Ah,” floated back from the dark, as if that explained it.

  As well as the white robe, Danton had a circular fringe of hair that was also very monk-like. If vampires could believe in any kind of religion, I suspected this guy would be their Pope. “If you will follow me?” He bowed to Luc and I then turned his back on Vincent.

  Whispers spread out behind us, beside us and before us. I wondered uneasily just how many vampires were in this place. Away from the torches, my eyes adjusted to the dark quickly and I saw there were fewer people than I’d thought. There were maybe forty of my new kin watching us curiously. Vincent scuttled along behind us like a gigantic cockroach, hurrying to catch up.

  Reaching a smaller but no less impressive door, Danton murmured a few words to a pale blur of a face through a barred window. The door was unlocked and the monk waved us through. Vincent stepped forward with the intention of following but halted when the monk put his hand on his chest. “Only these two may enter.”

  I resisted the urge to smirk at Vincent and trotted to keep up with Luc. Danton slipped past us and took the lead down the long tunnel. Another door, also guarded, barred our path after fifty or so feet. A much smaller, cosier cavern waited within.

  ·~·

  Chapter Sixteen

  Five vampires stood guard around a massive bed. All were dressed in coarse brown robes and were armed with swords. No doubt ancient, the blades were sheathed in plain leather scabbards and hung from rope belts around their waists. They put their hands on the sword hilts and readied themselves for battle as Luc and I approached. At a curt gesture from the monk, they fell back but their attention remained on us, ready to act.

  Thanks to two large fires on either side of the room, it was very nearly stifling in the enclosed space. Chimneys had been carved into the rock, keeping the room mostly smokeless. Beneath the faint traces of smoke that remained, I could smell something sweet that reminded me strongly of cinnamon.

  At a faint rustling sound, I turned my attention to the bed. A slight shape made a tiny mound beneath several layers of shabby blankets. A skeletal, wizened hand emerged and pointed unerringly at me. The hand turned over and the finger bent slowly, beckoning me closer. The monk motioned me to move to the bed but it was Luc’s hand on my back that actually propelled me into action. My feet weren’t about to close the distance without strong urging.

  Rounding the side of the bed, I had my first close look at
the prophet we’d travelled so far to see. If a mummy could rise up and come back to life, it would look like this. Sunken eyes, like black raisins, peered at me from a fleshless skull. Fangs stood out starkly from behind shrivelled lips.

  As I often did, I spoke without thinking. “No offence, but you look like you could use a good feed.”

  “I have not,” said the prophet in a rusty voice, “fed in over two hundred years.” My ears heard complete gibberish but my mind translated the words just fine.

  “There’s fifty people imprisoned in the dungeons below us,” I informed the living mummy. “I can get someone to bring you up a snack if you want.”

  A weird wheezing sound came from the withered chest of the prophet. It took a moment for me to recognize it as laughter. It took another moment to realize the cinnamon smell was wafting from his body. So that’s what happens when vampires starve themselves, they turn into cinnamon sticks.

  “You,” he lifted a bony finger and pointed it at my face, “are the one I have been waiting for.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked unhappily and took a seat on the bed. All five of the guards hissed in anger but Danton waved them back. The monk was hanging eagerly on every word we spoke, not that he would be able to understand his boss.

  “Do you bear the holy marks?”

  I nodded and clenched my fists shut. “Yep. But I’d rather not reveal them right now.” I think we both knew his guards would slay me if they saw them. Since the prophet spoke gibberish, he wasn’t in a position to blow the whistle on me. He nodded and his wispy white hair shifted slowly against the pillow like dandelion fluff in the wind. Even if he could have given a warning, I didn’t think he would. I wondered exactly who he was a prophet of, if not for God. It didn’t seem polite to ask.