Vampire Storm (Volume 1 : The Hurricane Journals)
Page 27
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As the witches of Saint Bernard planned out their assault on the forces of Saint Claude, the screams of The Mother muted out the sound of the wind as the storm began to slow its onslaught. The winds were finally beginning to die off, and as they did, the floodwaters slowly started to recede after hours of utter mayhem. Over the next few hours the now mellow waves calmly began rolling back into the lake, and with time the water levels dropped considerably.
Back in the settlement, the destruction was widespread. Nearly every building was either washed away on blown down, including both the barracks and the church. The barracks had been ripped to shreds, with only a wooden frame left standing, and the church was nowhere to be seen. The surviving structures were strange ones, seemingly random, and it seemed that only the larger structures had been demolished. Those that made it through were three small shacks… and that was it. One of them was closer to the church, bent over but still in one piece, while the other two were near the river.
Three specks of beaten-up-but-still-standing wood shacks scattered across a wrecked landscape.
And such was the story all around the young settlement, with survivors of the storm seeming to be just as scarce.
The mortals and witches that were able enough to stand walked through shin deep water, searching through the bodies for those that were still breathing. But the mortals were not as lucky as the witches, as they found many dead bodies scattered about the recently paved, now mud-wrecked streets, and throughout the surrounding swamp, some hanging limp from the shattered limbs of trees to demonstrate the height of the water farther from the settlement. As the day wore down the surviving mortals, they gathered up their fallen men and women, with both sweat and tears pouring down their faces, and placed their bloating corpses inside one of the small shacks near the river, where they would remain until they could dig graves for them all.
The surviving witches were away from them, closer to the northern swamp-line, and were all standing around the wreckage of the church that had crumbled beneath their feet during the storm. The water had carried many of them away, into the swamp to an unknown fate. Everyone left behind stood in the thick mud left by the floodwaters, still in shock over what had happened. Others were out in the swamp, searching for their lost friends. But Jade was left sitting on the lone pew left standing, the same one she had been laying on earlier in the church, one with a small cross carved into its back.
Marigny approached and sat next to her. “We need to talk.”
“Not now.” She spoke painfully, shaking her head slowly as her gaze seemed glued to the dirt. “Not now.”
“Heather is still out there, still searching.” He let her know, but Jade just nodded her head as if she couldn’t care less.
No one was speaking, not even Jade, and everyone seemed to be coping in their own way. No one had even seen where the water had come from, no one except Jade. But that didn’t matter. No one could have done anything about it. It was all so fast, so surreal. They may not have wanted to, but they were all still trapped within those memories of hours past.
They couldn’t help but remember how suddenly it all happened…
Chapter 14 - A Palace of God, Churned to Rubble
***(Six Hours Before)***