Shades - The Demise of Blake Beck

by Anders Rauff-Nielsen

  “It's OK,” Blake said. They walked out of the cathedral and parted ways on the square outside. Blake turned left around the corner to the CAC truck to inanimate, and Astrid turned right and headed off across town to see her mom. Vincenzo, who had heard it all, had slipped out of the cathedral just before Blake and Astrid and he watched as the two went their separate ways in the evening light. Vincenzo had the information Bahij wanted, and he savored the fact that it was now finally time for him to undertake his revenge on Blake Beck.

  Astrid walked through the quiet streets of Aarhus towards the northern part of the city to see her mother. She walked to clear her head before having to face her mom and talk her out of yet another hysterical – and probably drunken – fit concerning her midlife crisis. It was the same midlife crisis that Astrid had, on one occasion, referred to as her mother’s near-the-end-of-life crisis, taking her mother’s age into account. The comment had done nothing to calm her mother down. Astrid walked through the shifting lights of the street lamps until she reached the park-like cemetery that filled the gap between the city center and the part of northern Aarhus where her mother lived. Although she had been forced to admit that she didn't really like walking through cemeteries alone after dark, she had long ago decided not to let the tricks of her mind rule her life, and so she walked up the cobblestone stairway to the cemetery. As the light of the street lamps dissipated and the cool autumn darkness enveloped her, her pace unwittingly hastened. She could see the stars much clearer now that the lights of the city were kept at bay, and she told herself that it was actually a nice night and that the cemetery was more like a park than a place where the dead were buried. Astrid didn't manage to convince herself, and though she stopped for a moment in an attempt to enjoy the starry evening, she quickly resumed her walk. As she walked down the mingled pathways, she thought she heard footsteps on a path behind her and felt a chill run down her spine. For the briefest of moments, her mind suggested that it might be a werewolf following her, until she convinced herself that the idea was absolutely ludicrous and besides it wasn't even a full moon. She looked over her shoulder and found nothing, which was perhaps the worst of all. Walking ever quicker, she turned up a crossing path toward the lights that surrounded the small chapel and crematorium about halfway across the cemetery. She heard them again. The footsteps were now even closer than before, and she nearly screamed out as her mind fought to get the better of her, but didn't. Looking back as she walked on, she saw a young woman walking up one of the paths that ran parallel with the one she had been walking on. Astrid slowed her walk and relaxed, both amazed and annoyed at the power of her own imagination. It was just a young student, probably with a similarly vivid imagination, hurrying home across the cemetery. Astrid gave a small sigh of relief and turned right up the nearby path on which the young woman approached, abandoning the needless safety of the lights in order to take the easiest way to her mother’s flat. Once again she turned her attention to the starry sky, but now she could actually enjoy it after her obligatory scare and realization that she had nothing to fear but fear itself. It seemed that the other young woman had not yet come to the same realization and she still kept up her rapid pace. Astrid walked on one side of the path and slowed down to allow the woman to walk past her, attempting to avoid the uncomfortable situation of walking too close to someone for too long. Astrid was about to greet the woman with a courteous “good evening,” but the words never came out of her mouth. She heard the piercing of her leather jacket just as she felt a sudden, sharp pain in her upper back, and despite the urge, she found it impossible to scream. The woman grabbed her by the chest and a strong push of the knife intensified the pain. Tears welled in Astrid's eyes as she tried to fight her way out of the assailant’s grasp, but to no avail. The woman was too strong. Flailing her arms, Astrid felt her legs being swept away, and as she crashed down on her back, she felt the knife forcing its way even further into her flesh and her lungs filling with blood. She closed her eyes to the pain, and when she opened them again a moment later, the young woman was sitting on top of her, holding her down. Astrid looked at the woman through the haze of tears and panic began to take her. The young woman with the distinctive, dark A-line bob smiled.

  “I . . . Why me?” Astrid tried to ask with her last breath of air, but the words were made almost inaudible by the blood and mucus that filled her lungs and throat. There was no reply from the woman, and Astrid closed her eyes as her life slipped from her, tears running down her cheeks. She could hear the silence of the night and the sound of her own blood dripping from her wound, drumming on the ground beneath her.

  As Astrid slipped into death, Vincenzo bent over and felt the warmth of her body. He smelled death. Moving his head in within an inch of hers, he tasted the last salty tears that ran from her eyes. He felt her last breath against his cheek, and as he ran his hand up her blouse, he felt her heart stop. Then he kissed her goodbye.

  VI

  Vincenzo returned from life for a short time and found himself in his room at Aquraa castle, lying still in the canopy bed. He lay there just long enough to get his bearings before getting up and walking past the open window to the writing desk in the corner of the bedroom. He sat down and dipped the quill in the inkwell on the table. Then he wrote a short note to Bahij, explaining that he intended to go back for Blake Beck. He jotted down the names of the three saints – Saint Clement, Saint Anna and John the Baptist – briefly detailing their symbolism as explained by Astrid, despite knowing full well that Bahij was well versed in these matters. Then he folded up the paper, put it in an envelope and affixed it with his own wax seal. It took him only a few minutes to find Teresa Ammon to ask her to deliver the letter to Bahij. Then Vincenzo reanimated, already planning his revenge.

  VII

  The following evening, Blake walked the two-dozen yards from the CAC truck to the entrance of the cathedral, waiting for Astrid to arrive. Though he had already given McCoy the names of the three saints, Blake was still waiting for the final parts of the Voynich manuscript to be translated, and he figured that he might as well hear the girl out. Besides, he found himself enjoying her company. He waited by the door for a few minutes, watching people scuttle across the square in pursuit of their lives until he eyed Astrid walking towards him wearing a big smile and a long, black coat that suited her slightly Goth appearance.

  “Good evening,” Blake said just before she reached him. Astrid didn't reply. Instead, she walked up to him, stretched on her toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  “Hi!” she said. “Thanks for coming. I've been looking forward to it all day and I'd started to fear that you wouldn't come.” She held his eyes while she took the keys from her pocket and then stepped over to unlock the doors.

  “Of course I did. I promised, didn't I?” he said and moved to pull the heavy door open for Astrid.

  “You did.” They walked inside, and Astrid turned to lock the door as Blake walked into the antechamber and over to the small desk that was the domain of the volunteer guides during opening hours. That morning’s copy of Denmark's leading tabloid lay folded on the chair behind the desk offering the day’s story of fear: a young woman had died and was presumed murdered in a cemetery in northern Aarhus. The story ran under the headline: “Grave Robber?” Blake looked at the paper, which sported a full-page photo of the young woman lying in a pool of blood on a path that ran between the graves. It was a poor photo, and Blake thought it was probably taken with the cell phone of whoever found the body and decided to make a buck peddling the photo to the tabloids. He heard Astrid lock the door. A black bar had been placed over the dead woman’s eyes, but Blake still found her to be strangely familiar – there was something about the black clothes and her dark, A-line bob haircut. As Astrid walked up beside him and flipped through the postcards in the stand on the desk, he had a realization. It was the girl from London – the vampire. “How the hell did she end up in Aarhus, and why and how was she killed?” he wondered. If the CAC had c
aught up with her, he surely would have been informed – or heads would roll. Hundreds of scenarios ran through his mind, each one having its own weaknesses and holes. The only thing he was certain of was that something was amiss.

  “Did you have dinner yet?” he asked Astrid, who took his arm and leaned towards him.

  “Nope, not yet,” she smiled.

  “Well, when we're done here, maybe we should grab a bite. I think I'd like to try that autumn salad you had yesterday,” Blake said, testing a hunch.

  “Yes, it was really delicious! We should do that,” Her voice was flirty and hinted that something else would take priority. Blake turned his head and looked at her just in time to see the light catch on the blade she pulled from her pocket. Blake realized then what had happened to Astrid, and he parried the stab of the knife and kneed Astrid’s reanimated body in the gut, sending her flying backwards.

  “You fucking bitch!” Blake yelled as his knee connected. The vampire landed on her feet and her coat fell open, revealing a medieval longsword hidden in the folds within. The vampire drew the sword and started laughing.

  “Who are you calling a bitch, Beck? The little tart who died sobbing on the cold ground last night, rattling as the blood filled her lungs? Or the whore you brought with you last time?” Blake looked at Astrid in disbelief as the familiar timbre of her voice delivered words that clearly belonged to another.

  “Vincenzo?” Blake asked, eyeing the door to his right that appeared to be the only way out of the antechamber, save past the vampire.

  “Yes, and this time I know your girlfriend won't save you because she's busy holding her legs up, pleasing your master.” Blake burned inside, but rather than follow his inclination to launch himself at Vincenzo in an uneven struggle, reason prevailed and Blake decided to bide his time, striking verbally as he moved towards the door.

  “Well, it seems you're all the woman I need tonight,” Blake said, edging backwards. “It’s just as well, as I recall, you fight like a girl anyway!” Blake saw how the muscles in Astrid's body tightened, revealing that Vincenzo was about to attack. Blake made a run for the door and ripped it open, and as Vincenzo shot towards him, he started up the old, winding staircase of the tower.

  “Beck, you goddamn coward. Stay and fight! There's nothing up there but your own demise.” Blake hurried up the stairs, hearing that Vincenzo was not far behind. He felt a gentle draft through the old windows when he reached a room halfway up the tower, high above the city. The room was bare, save for an old clock mechanism in the middle of the room, a number of old cast iron clock hands nailed on display up on the thick stone walls and a series of power cables running up the wall to a fuse box. Blake ran to the far wall and grabbed one of the clock hands. Then he pulled until the rusty nails that held it gave way. It looked like a sword with its crescent ornamentation on the outer hand serving as the cross guard. However, the weight was dead off and the edge of the cast iron hand was about as sharp as a brick, but Blake knew it would have to make do. Vincenzo had made his way up the stairs, and he launched himself at Blake with his sword pulled back to strike. Blake dodged the first blow and managed to parry Vincenzo's sword as he tried to cut Blake down with a second strike. “Oh, I've been waiting a long time for this, Beck,” Vincenzo said as Blake retained a good distance from him by stepping back around the old clock mechanism that was standing on the floor.

  “You mean hiding for a long time. What's it been? Ten years?”

  “If you hadn't fought like a fucking cur, we would have finished this ten years ago and it wouldn't have had to wait. You would have been long gone – just another meal to me.” Then Vincenzo let his sword speak as he struck out again, and Blake moved on his heels along the wall, dodging, ducking and parrying as best he could, watching for Vincenzo to make a mistake.

  “Vincenzo, you're the mongrel cur hiding in the shadows and preying like a parasite on those who deserve better. You're the coward who doesn't dare face your own judgment.” Vincenzo pulled his sword back, and as he did, the bells above them tolled eight o'clock, making it pointless for Vincenzo to retort as the sound of the bells filled the room. He swung his sword, pouring all his anger into one devastating blow. Rather than parry, Blake let himself fall to the ground, Vincenzo's sword missing his head by an inch and instead connecting with the power cables that ran into the fuse box on the wall next to him. The circuit shorted, the bells stopped ringing and the tower lights died out. As the current ran through Vincenzo's sword, Astrid's body flinched and cramped up. Blake dropped his makeshift weapon and made a run for the stairs. Vincenzo's senses flickered in and out of reminiscence as the electricity jolted his new body and the blue flash of sparks illuminated the small room. Blake was well on his way down the stairs when Vincenzo regained his composure and resumed the chase.

  “You know we are the same, you and I!” Vincenzo yelled. “Both undead and each in our own way fighting to avoid the judgment the gods would have passed on us. We have just chosen to serve different masters.” Vincenzo could hear that he was closing in on Blake, having the advantage of the smaller body in the narrow staircase.

  “Except you serve your own desires and harm those who do not deserve to be harmed!” Blake called back as he reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the antechamber. He ran for the nave with Vincenzo close behind.

  “It is your desire and hope, rather than your intellect, that has convinced you to believe in angels in the hearts of men.” Vincenzo swung at Blake who just managed to outrun Vincenzo and his sword. Then Blake pretended to trip, diving forward. As he landed in the aisle, he slid the last few feet until he stopped and turned, now lying next to the first bench on the right-hand side of the aisle. Vincenzo moved to take advantage of Blake’s situation and he jumped into a frenzied stab, raising his sword high above his head. Blake reached out and pulled his katana from underneath the bench. Drawing the sword and striking in one fluent movement, Blake cut through half of Astrid's arm as Vincenzo descended upon him, effectively stopping the attack and causing Vincenzo to tumble forward past Blake. They both rose to their feet at the same time, but holding his katana, Blake knew that the odds had been evened out. “Beck, you fucking fool. Why won't you see that the universe is not a place of good or evil? It is a vicarious existence where you devour or are consumed. This is the way it is. It's the way it has always been! Have you seen them? Feeding on each other's misfortune and tragedies, striving not to better themselves, but rather floating through life seeking contentment in the fact that others are worse off than themselves. I feed on them, like they feed on each other.” As Vincenzo raised his blade, so did Blake.

  “Have you just come here to talk, or is it that being a woman has done this to you, you piece of shit?” Blake retorted.

  “You . . . I'll have you writhe as I consume your damned soul!” Vincenzo yelled, running towards Blake and striking out at his neck. Blake barely managed to stop the force of the blow, causing him to shift his balance. As he did, Vincenzo kicked Blake square in the chest, sending him scuttling backwards. Blake fought to regain his composure and Vincenzo struck again, sending sparks flying as Blake parried his blade at the last moment before Vincenzo would have cut him down. Blake lingered, appearing unsteady on his feet and taken aback by the force of the blow while he imperceptibly shifted his weight to prepare for a final strike. As Vincenzo took advantage of Blake's seemingly vulnerable position and dived in to strike, Blake pulled his katana up, putting all possible force in the attack. Just before Vincenzo's sword reached Blake, his katana connected with Astrid's abdomen, cutting her body in two and halting Vincenzo's advance as he came tumbling down over a nearby row of benches, roaring and cursing Blake. “You goddamn bastard, Beck! This isn't over yet!” Vincenzo yelled, his words echoing in Astrid's voice between the thick walls of the cathedral.

  “You're damn right it isn't!”

  “I'll see you in hell!” Vincenzo bellowed, his voice distorting and twisting as his soul was forced to leave Astrid's m
angled body.

  CHAPTER 6

  - PLAY DEAD -

  I

  Astrid opened her eyes feeling disoriented and hurt by the great injustice that had befallen her. “Thank God I survived,” she thought, deciding that she'd better head for the hospital that was just beyond the cemetery. Afraid to hurt herself further, she got off the ground slowly and tried to get her bearings. Much to her surprise, her back didn't hurt. “Goddammit!” she exclaimed to the darkness, cursing the bitch who she assumed had robbed her and almost killed her. Then Astrid started walking towards the hospital, eyeing the distant lights of the surrounding town. As she walked, it slowly dawned on her that something was off – in fact, outright wrong. Someone had removed each and every tombstone, turning the cemetery into a rather fashionable park. Her feeling of disorientation quickly turned into denial, and Astrid looked all the way around, examining the city skyline. “Where's the harbor?!” she burst out, looking for the harbor that stretched out below the cemetery. The harbor was about the size of the rest of the city, so it was usually pretty hard to miss. “Where the hell am I?!” she cried out to the darkness as she stumbled slowly onwards with no conscious aim. Her heart jumped when she saw a figure moving in the dark – a robe-clad figure that was walking straight towards her. Part of her wanted to greet the figure and run to it for help. But instead she screamed. She screamed until the clear, high pitch of her voice died out and she began to cry. Astrid sat down on the pathway and hugged her knees, ignoring the figure that was coming towards her. She had a profound feeling that somehow it did not matter at all.

  “Come on, miss. Get up,” the robed figure said in a friendly female voice. Astrid looked up with the disgruntled look of a young girl whose pain wasn't being acknowledged.