“Then, what?”
“Megalomaniac fits best.”
“Perhaps it would be best if we avoided him and his bride.”
Aurora gave a sage nod to emphasise her point. I had to smile.
“Has anyone ever told you, you ask a lot of questions?” I chuckled.
“Yes, you. And as I stated, I have had no one to talk to.”
“But you're a princess.”
“In name,” came an iced response.
“I'm sorry, Aurora, truly I am. I prefer my own company and seek my own counsel by choice. Having that choice stripped from me would be hard to take.” Aurora shrugged her shoulders, which seemed her way of accepting things. “Do none of your family spend time with you?” I asked somewhat gentler.
“On occasion, if the others are away, then Narina will, but only she, and only then.”
“Then, when I am done with all those who darken this world, you must stay with Linka and I. It might not be for long, though,” I added.
“You have accepted this world will die?” she asked without inflexion.
“It is an undeniable truth. The sun shall soon set forever, and on that day, the planet will die.”
“I agree.”
“And you are always right.”
“Yes,” she laughed. “You remembered.”
Her laughter was beautiful. A sound reminiscent of the blooms Linka had planted, her voice rang like small bells chiming in the north wind. My glazed eyes must have given my feelings away.
“You miss her, don't you?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yes,” she laughed again, and the pain in my chest lightened a touch. “You are a good man, Jean. You do not realise it, but you are. And thank you for your kind offer.”
“I could insist,” I said,
“You could try, my friend, you could try.”
I was about to give a witty riposte when Aurora's hair blew from her face to reveal a countenance a shade paler than pale. I knew what she regarded without even looking.
“That does not look a happy place, and I am an expert in unhappiness,” Aurora spoke with chilling honesty.
“That, my dear girl, is the rusting blimp of a palace that is the home to my most hated of foes.”
“Seeing you have so many that cannot be good.”
“On this occasion, I would agree. It is not good at all.”
“Are we not heading a touch too close for comfort, Jean?” Aurora asked. She leaned away from the handlebar contraption as though the extra two feet it attained would save her.
I turned to see the pinprick spires of Vladivar's castle fortress reflecting the first of the dawn's morning light. Perhaps it was the fact we headed toward that unholiest of places, but I couldn't have imagined being happier to see the sun.
“What is that?” Aurora asked, pointing way down into the cleft valley below.
“That, my dear, is the Marquis' portable blood bank. It looks like dear old Walter was telling the truth. They must be down there.”
“Should we not be moving towards it, Jean?” Aurora said. A touch of panic tainted her usual ice-cool demeanour.
“Merryweather must be down there and not in the castle. We have deciphered that much, so I'm positive we shall turn from Vladivar.”
But we didn't.
“Why are we dropping, Jean?”
“I do not know, Aurora.”
I jumped to the controls and prodded the red button. It had no effect on anything, so I writhed at the handlebar controls as Merryweather once had. They did not budge. I tried again, only this time harder to the perturbing crack of fractured metal.
“That's not good.”
“You think!” I growled in frustration.
The flying platform came to a steady halt above the castle, then slowly, ever so slowly, as if to draw out the pain, descended.
“Aurora!” I barked. “You must conceal yourself.”
“I will not leave you,” she replied.
“I'm not asking you to. Please, for me, though, disappear for now. You can follow incognito. It will do no good for us both to be caught. This will be unpleasant.”
“I will do so, for you,” she stated. Her hands moved to the cowl of her cloak, then she vanished.
I gave a cursory glance below, straightened out my wind-dried cuffs and swept strands of long, dark hair from my face. If I was to be slain, it would be as a well-groomed victim.
* * *
The metallic clank of the flying platform landing on the castle courtyard synchronised to perfection with the sun's rays reflecting off the burnished walls of Vladivar's domain. The whole place filled with ruby light, and for a time, we were safe.
Chapter Fourteen
-
Rust
“Should you not be being brutalised?”
The disembodied voice washed over and through me as though carried on a gentle breeze from Arctic shores. I resisted the urge to turn to it, instead, replying out of the side of my mouth – thank God Merryweather was not there to see it.
“Shh! It's the sunlight, Aurora, they fear it. They cannot harm us whilst we remain outside.” I said it more for my reassurance than hers.
“If the flyer brought us here, then Walter cannot be far away. I shall see.”
“Aurora!” I hissed, but like the wind, she'd drifted away.
There was nowhere for her to go – not that she knew it – so I turned to that which stretched out before me. My shadow lay there steady and set. I had of course seen it before, but not without the flickering extremities of candlelight or weak castings of the moon. A unique experience, I marvelled in my other self's dark complexity. If the thing had grown wings, I should have looked complete in raven attire, either that, or a dark angel. On reflection, perhaps not the latter.
So enthralled with my new plaything was I, that when a voice whispered in my ear, I almost jumped out of the courtyard.
“I see no one but us, so can only presume Walter is inside.”
“I'm not so certain, Aurora? That sounds logical, but why say he was moving north if he was still here?”
“They could have doubled back.”
“They could, but that is not the way of those we follow. I think the flying platform was meant to come here.”
“Preprogrammed,” Aurora suggested.
“If that is the word used for such things, then yes.”
“What should we do?” she whispered.
“I'm not sure”
“That is most unlike you.”
“This whole situation troubles me. Something seems askew, but I cannot put my finger on what.”
“You are sure we are undetected?”
“Whether we are, were, or not, they cannot do anything about it now. Whilst sunlight remains, we are safe.” I cast my eyes up to the many-windowed upper tiers of the castle; there was nothing to disprove my assumptions. Like spider's eyes, the myriad glass portals stared down, aware but unfocused.
“Then, might I make a suggestion?”
“What?” I said as I cogitated a million uninspired ideas of my own.
“I could scout around inside and check.”
“No,” I said, too abruptly. “I will go. I am not about to risk losing you, too.”
“You have no say in the matter. It is by far the most sensible option. We need to know who is, or is not, here. I will not be long, I promise.” Her apparitional voice drifted away on Stygian currents.
“Aurora!” I hissed. “Aurora! Goddamn it, twice in as many minutes.” I cast my eyes across the courtyard like a fool. What was the point in searching for that which could not be seen?
Exasperated by her impetuousness, I bumbled one way then the other, unsure of where to head. Each point of the compass seemed equally uninviting. It was the click of a lifted latch which drew my attention to the courtyard's concealed door. If not for my previous encounters in Vladivar's domain, I would still not have known where to look. Not only had Aurora found the thing, sh
e'd forced it open. The girl was so much stronger than she looked, so deceptive. Yet, no matter how well concealed, nor how singularly powerful I knew her to be, I suspected she would not fair long against Vladivar's horde. I set off in pursuit.
“Aurora,” I risked. There was no response. I reached out hoping to brush against her, but she was long gone, or so it seemed. One more step and the false night of the corridor enveloped me in darkening shades of pitch. It felt odd to be stood fumbling in the darkness, waiting for my eyes to readjust from the dawn light. Aeons of sunless existence were hard to compensate for in so brief a time. However, after a few moments, and much hushed cursing, I saw again and made my stealthy way towards the throne room.
Vladivar's home had never been anything other than intimidating, not that I'd allowed it to show, but the absolute silence of the place furthered the feeling. Nothing stirred, not a whisper in the hallways, not a moth in the rafters, it was almost as though the place were swept clean of all but the stubbornest memories. A pity the same attention had not been applied to the stench. An awful stink as of decaying matter, or blood unrefrigerated and allowed to fester in pools, assailed my olfactory senses.
The thought of stubborn presences made me grit my teeth at Aurora's hot-headedness. She meant well, possibly to the point of over-protection, but I was sure she'd never dealt with anyone like Vladivar. The man was a throwback to the time of the vampires where ferocity bordered on the archaic. There was no place for him in any time let alone one that least required dominating.
I was so engrossed in feral thoughts, I almost missed the rasped whisper as of an asthmatic mouse, for I could think of nothing else it could be. The sound was so faint as to be almost unheard. That forced breath would have evaded most ears, but not mine. I slowed my steps, twisted my head like an owl seeking its prey and listened. Both auditory units told the same tale; the sound came from up ahead.
So, it was with more than a modicum of shock that I peered around a final wall and into Vladivar's most desperate of chambers to regard the unimaginable. The stone floor was littered with blood bags in various states of depletion. A crimson jigsaw, its pieces strewn about in careless abandon, the scene did not fit.
I fought the urge to sate myself and allowed my eyes to follow the haphazard trail across the chamber to the throne itself. If I'd said the seat occupied it would have been a gross overstatement. There was something in it, possibly sat, possibly propped, but it was impossible to say what. Bored with hiding, I did the only thing I could, the only way I knew how; I strode purposefully over to it.
“Noooo,” the thing wheezed.
“So, you are human,” I quipped, although uncertain what I quipped to.
The thing was not unlike a human, but drained of all life essence, a shrunken husk adorned in an iron armour that swamped it. A blood bag hung from a hook that scragged the bear's head that backed the throne. The bag, via a tube of crimson filled liquid shoved brutally into what I guessed the creature's arm, fed the thing.
The creature, as though sensing my nearness, opened two obsidian slits I took for its eyes. They regarded me, and I knew the thing for what it was: Vladivar, or what was left of him.
“Good Lord,” I said, taking an impromptu step away from the desiccated figure. “What the hell happened to you?” I was too taken aback to even mock.
The thing tried to raise its head, but failed; tried to whisper, but could only rasp; tried to weep, eyelids creaked shut, but did not possess the ocular fluids to do so.
“Vladivar, can it be you?”
There was no response.
“Can you hear me? Do you know me?”
The abomination's lips, rotted dried up slugs of things, pursed together, but could not achieve speech.
I took a lungful of stale air, then wished I hadn't, and offered my ear to the thing. Still nothing but the steady drip-drip of its portable blood supply.
Collecting a blood bag from the floor, I slit the thing open with a single, razor-sharp talon and poured about half of the contents over the thing's shrivelled face.
I'd seen many disgusting sights in my time from blood filled rivers to blood strewn corpses, and much worse, but nothing had ever sickened me as much as the grey tongue that shovelled forth sandpaper-like from between those ruined lips. The tongue thrashed in the slowest of slow motions, reddening, becoming just slick enough for that which was once Vladivar to speak.
“Have you come to…gloat?” The words seemed filtered through the afterlife and back again.
“I think the time for gloating is long past.” The desiccated thing shivered at that, emitting a crinkling rustle. Only when I saw the chest plate rise and fall did I realise it laughed. “Who did this to you?” I demanded.
“My…wife.”
“Chantelle, when?”
“As you…escaped.” The tongue thing flapped about loosely, so I poured the rest of the bag over it.
“Are you saying you've been here like this since then?”
“Yessss.”
“And your people?”
“Those left are now hers.”
“Why?” I said looking deep into those dark eyes, Vladivar's sole identifiable feature.
“I cannot say.”
“Cannot, or will not?” I pressed.
“Both,” he wheezed. “More blood.”
“Oh, no, not until you tell me everything.”
“She…will kill me.”
“You underestimate me if you think I will not.”
“Her death…would…be worse.” Vladivar struggled to form the words as he dried out again.
I sliced a second bag apart, offered it to him, then snatched it away and took a long, deep swill of the stuff myself.
“Noooo,” Vladivar wheezed.
“Shall we try again? Why did Chantelle do this to you, and where has she gone? I presume I'm right in saying she's not here?”
“Gone.”
“Where?”
“Blood,” he implored, but I was losing patience and ignored his lolling tongue.
“Where?” I allowed my anger to show.
“North.” Vladivar's eyes lusted for what little crimson remained sloshing in the bag. The pain therein was tangible when I cast it to one side, the contents spilling all over the stone floor.
“I know she and the rest have gone north. The information I require is where north?”
Something akin to surprise flickered across Vladivar's eyes. The skin of his once taut cheeks sucked in like hollowed out caves, then loosened again. A panic set in, sending ripples of death billowing through his features. This was Vladivar's passage to death, one I would sooner have forgotten.
“Ah! You see, I do know more than you suspected. That, my once fearsome foe, is because I am closing in on the truth. I shall soon know everything and eliminate those who are responsible for the deceptions. You're currently top of the list, or second, depending on my mood, so I'd cough up some answers if I was you.”
But all Vladivar did was cough up gobs of black ooze, which pooled over once imposing armour. The gloop ran down his breastplate onto shrivelled, toothpick legs, then slopped to the floor near my feet.
“Urgh! That's disgusting although manners never were your forte. Now, how about those answers?” I picked up two discarded bags and tossed them at his shrunken head. “Where have Chantelle and the others gone?”
The thing eyed me. He shot me such a look of evil, such contempt, I felt a desire to end his suffering right there and then. It would have been wasted, though, he wasn't going to say anything. Fear is a terrible weapon and Vladivar feared his wife more than I. Then again, what man didn't?
I scratched my head, slit open another bag and drank of it, whilst trying to formulate a better plan, when the strangest thing happened. Two of the blood bags levitated from the floor. First one, then the other slit itself open and loosed their contents into thin air. I was shocked. The effect on Vladivar was greater. His desiccated husk creaked and moaned as it tried to push
back into the throne; it failed miserably. He strove to rid himself of the vision before him, but could not. My own apparent shock caused him even more unrest as his tongue rasped around his pumice stone mouth. When another bag raised from the floor and floated towards him it reaped more positive results.
“They…seek…the…monks.”
“Why?” I roared. “The Marquis stated he only needed the original Sunyin, their father. The others were of no supposed consequence.”
“He is dying.” The creature's deflated form gasped at that, and I realised he found it humorous.
“So, the Marquis is panicked,” I mused, running my fingers through my hair. I did my best to disguise my inner turmoil, but whether or not I succeeded, I could not tell. The withered figure's eyes glared at me with the same venomous intent.
“They use him to track his children,” Vladivar continued. “The Marquis knows he does not have long,” the thing rasped, a terrible parody of its wife.
“And what do the monks seek?” I growled, as the third bag split open and spewed forth its contents onto the floor.
“Youuuu!” Vladivar screamed, the call of a thing long since dead. His eyes opened wider and wider until I thought they should pop from their sockets, his jaws meeting so violently, they sliced his black and red tongue in twain. The twitching appendage fell to the floor like a gigantic slug and writhed at his deformed feet.
I took an involuntary step back as a voice materialised out of the aether.
“The Sunyins,” came cool, crisp Nordic tones.
“Yes, Aurora,” I replied to my invisible friend realising it she who was again our saviour. “Our enemies seek to reclaim what they believe their own.”
The Vladivar thing's eyes looked on in amazement. When Aurora threw back her cowl to reveal her luminescent splendour, he visibly quaked. She lighted the room, a goddess amongst lesser beings.
“You look like you've seen a ghost, Vlad, old boy.” He did not reply.
“We should go,” Aurora stated.
“Yes, we should,” I agreed. “But I need to ask Vladivar one more thing.” The dried up creature's eyes turned to me then. “There're so many things I wish I could ask you, Vlad, old bean, but in the circumstances, I shall narrow it down to one.”
Hunter Hunted (The Eternals Book 2) Page 13