Prophecy of Blood

by John R. Monteith

  Stealing a glance around his shield, Liam saw Dianne sprinting towards the wall where her dagger lay on the ground. The wraith moved towards him, and he wanted to keep it that way. He worked the barrel of his rifle aside his shield and aimed it at the animal. He squeezed off several rounds and yelled. “Come and get me, you bastard!”

  The wraith tucked himself behind the corner of the stairway, dodging the volley. He then noticed Dianne sprinting towards her dagger, lifted his shotgun, and aimed.

  With perfect timing, the empath dove to the floor below the buckshot.

  His shotgun empty, the wraith lifted his assault rifle from his shoulder and pointed it at Dianne.

  Forgetting his own safety, Liam dropped his shield, clutched his rifle in both hands, and charged the savage. He released a primal scream to distract him, and he sent bullets into the animal’s back.

  The wraith’s armor took the pounding, and he kept his weapon on Dianne. He pulled the trigger, releasing automatic rounds at the empath.

  As Liam sprinted towards the animal, he watched in awe as Dianne whipped her dagger in in a defensive demonstration of azure arcs. The clank of each bullet hitting the bronze blade signified each deflected shot.

  Thinking he had the better of this enemy with Dianne consuming his attention, Liam raised his barrel towards the wraith’s head. Though covered with an armored helmet, the savage’s skull was still vulnerable to the concussive forces.

  Before the young hunter pulled the trigger, the wraith turned and glared with his demonic eyes. With impossible speed, he lifted his red dagger and hurled it at Liam.

  Guided by supernatural evil, the tip worked between the seams of the young hunter’s armor and lodged itself into the artery under his arm. Liam fell to the ground in pain as the mortal wound took its toll. As he glanced across the warehouse floor, he was at least relieved to see a successful rescue.

  His father was leading the other women out with the riot shields in two groups of two, including Nadine who’d they’d snuck in as a decoy. The final group of two were making their move and would reach safety.

  The wraith appeared over Liam, kicked away his rifle, and tossed the pistols from his jacket. He reached for his knife. “I’d cut your arm off and watch you bleed to death, but I first need to deal with this harlot you sent for me.” He yanked out the blade, accelerating the bleeding and leaving the young hunter in a spreading pool of his own blood.

  Liam whispered into his communications set. “Father, lead them to safety. Get Dianne out of here.”

  “There all out now, lad. It’s just you, me, and Dianne against him. I’m not leaving you.”

  Dianne interjected her command over their shared communication circuit. “I’ll deal with him myself. Save Liam.”

  The wraith countered them all. “If you want to save the boy’s life, throw down your weapons.”

  Liam felt his life waning. “Don’t do it, Father.”

  “I… can’t seem to help myself. I’m lowering my weapons. I’ll be there with the first aid kit.” Unarmed, the elder hunter sprinted across the concrete and arrived at Liam’s side.

  The pressure in his arm was comforting. “I told you to leave me, Father. You’re unarmed and exposed.”

  As the elder hunter pressed gauze into the wound, he glanced over his shoulder. “Dianne seems to be holding her own.”

  Liam lifted his head and saw the empath’s light blue dagger swinging against the reddish glow of her enemy’s knife.

  She wielded the charmed dagger like a superhuman, parrying a punch and slicing her assailant’s forearm. Then she clashed bronze against bronze, and the weapons exchanged a multi-colored bolt of supercharged lightning.

  The wraith moved with concise, expert motions, awing Liam with his natural abilities but more so with his supernatural speed. Where he’d seen Dianne destroy a skilled fighter in Michigan, he watched an even battle now.

  A woman possessed, Dianne dodged and parried, stopping three slashes and four stabbing attempts that would have killed a lesser foe. But with his Master fueling his rage, the wraith cut her forearm, and she cried in pain.

  “Holding her own, maybe, but not for much longer. Can’t we help her, Father?”

  “I wanted to, but she wouldn’t let me.”

  “She was in your head?”

  “Yes. Rest now. Let me patch you up.”

  With his father’s assuring tone, Liam released himself to his care and lost consciousness.

  CHAPTER 42

  Dianne prayed her gambit would work.

  As her confidence in her abilities plateaued, she doubted there was anything else she could do. She thrust the point towards the wraith’s exposed neck, and he blocked with his crossguard. Mystical sparks flew as bronze scraped bronze. With a crazed shriek, she pulled her weapon back and then whipped the blade upward with incredible speed, but her enemy matched her with a rapid parry.

  Recalling the words of the ghost, the Maiden of Beit She’an, she hoped she was meeting the intent of being willing to surrender her life. She needed to risk everything, or else her young hunter would die.

  This was her final conflict. This was her risking of everything.

  Losing ground in her knife fight, she took solace as she realized she was allowing Connor to stabilize Liam and move him from the premises. From the corner of her eye, she saw the elder hunter dragging his son towards the door.

  She was relieved to see Liam reaching safety, but the glimpse cost her.

  The wraith sliced open the backs of her fingers, and only the dagger’s divine essence kept it in her hand.

  Dianne stepped backwards, and, sensing his advantage, the wraith pressed forward. With her profile to the blown-open door, she judged the time perfect for her final move. She beckoned for help from the final player in the game. “Now, Nana!”

  Within her grandmother’s mind, she heard a protest. “I can’t. I’m afraid.”

  “You can do it. We can do it together. You aim, and I’ll help you pull the trigger.”

  Bullets pounded the wraith’s helmet, and he collapsed.

  The empath seized her moment and pounced on him. She rolled him to his back, straddled him, and raised her dagger.

  As she recited her incantation, her voice echoed off the walls like a haunting symphony, blending the voices of two dozen dead victims.

  “I avenge. I free. I redeem.”

  Two handed, she plunged the coppery knife through her enemy’s armor and into his heart.

  White light cracked though the wraith’s skin and clothing, and ghosts wearing milky white dresses emerged from his dying form. Two dozen apparitions escaped their killer, rose through the warehouse’s ceiling, and ascended beyond sight.

  As the final victim flew away, the savage’s body turned to bones, falling into its proper state of decay for a one-hundred-and thirty-three-year old man.

  Dianne enjoyed the rush of power and sensed herself growing stronger at the expense of the wraith she’d killed. With her newfound energy, she sprang to her feet and sprinted across the floor. “Liam!”

  Connor stopped her with his raised palm. “He’s in danger. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

  “But he’ll be fine.” It was a statement of hope, as opposed to a declaration of her empathic tuition.

  “I’m calling for emergency help.”

  Glowing, Dianne’s dagger summoned her attention. She lifted it and then lowered it towards the young hunter’s wound.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t know. The dagger’s doing it.”

  “I don’t see how that can help him.”

  “I don’t know either, but lift the bandages out of the way.”

  “I can’t do that. He’ll bleed out.”

  “That’s what the dagger wants.”

  “Oh, dear. For a moment, I suppose. But whatever you’re doing, please hurry.” The elder hunter unraveled his handiwork.

  Dianne let the blade guide itself into Liam’s wound. Thoug
h it was cool metal in her hand, its edge seared the young hunter’s flesh. “What’s it doing? I don’t understand.”

  “I think it’s cauterizing his wound.”

  She lifted her dagger from its patient.

  “Mercy me, his bleeding has stopped. That was brilliant. How?”

  “It wasn’t me. I have no idea. I just… well, you saw it.”

  “I still don’t believe it, but you’re full of surprises. What does my son call you, again?”

  “The Lady of the Dagger.”

  “The Lady of the Dagger, indeed.”

  Aiming her Heckler and Koch 416 rifle towards the ground, the empath’s grandmother appeared beside Liam. “He’s going to be okay?”

  “Thanks to your granddaughter.”

  “I saw. That dagger, it’s something special.”

  “Absolutely.” Relieved that his son’s life appeared spared, the elder hunter gave a confounded look. “It has the power to stop bullets and to heal a wound, but why do you suppose it was unable to defeat this wraith in hand-to-hand combat?”

  Nana stood and slung her rifle over her shoulder. “Maybe that stays a mystery, but you’ll hear no complaint from me. It gives me a chance to shoot him, and I hadn’t shot in three weeks. My trigger finger was getting… how do you say it?”

  Dianne scoffed. “Itchy, Nana?”

  “Yes, itchy.” Reliving her recent glory, the grandmother lowered her rifle to her cheek and aimed it at the pile of bones that had threatened her team. “But I’m glad you make me do this, Dianne. I wasn’t sure I could shoot to kill, but I feel much better now.”

  “If I’m the Lady of the Dagger, you’re Machinegun Nana. I’m not the only one coming out of this with a cool nickname.”

  The next evening, the team gathered in Liam’s hospital room. Dianne leaned against the counter by the window and watched the full moon rising over a city she’d made safe against the victims of one supernatural savage. “How are you feeling.”

  One arm in a cast from month-old bullet wounds, and his other arm bandaged and immobilized, the young hunter used his broken and healing arm to balance peas on a fork in front of his mouth. “I’m starved.”

  Connor smiled. “That’s a good sign.”

  Dianne waved a dismissive wrist. “He’s always hungry. But, yeah, it’s good to watch him shovel food into his mouth. Come on, we’re crowding him. Let him eat in peace.”

  Liam mumbled his protest through a full mouth. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind the company.”

  The elder hunter waved the women away. “Josh, you can stay, but I think the rest of the gang needs a little girl talk.”

  Dianne followed Nana, five Iraqis, and three Syrians to an empty waiting room and joined a circle around the matriarch.

  The Chaldean grandmother spoke in slow Arabic. “You’re all free, but you’re not home. We need to determine what to do next. Does anyone want to go home? Does anyone want to get to the United Kingdom or even the United States?”

  A mix of shrugs, nods, and head shakes revealed the complexity of Nana’s question.

  As an empath, Dianne thought she could help. “I could talk to each of you individually to help decide. I could even do a tarot reading, if anyone wants that.”

  The reception was positive, and Dianne knew how she’d spend her evening. But before settling into the work of prophecy, she needed to return to the hunters without her female colleagues. She walked to Liam’s room and closed the door. “There are eight women in there who may be afraid to go home. They’re all refugees, based upon what I know about them. Can your secret order help get them somewhere safe with opportunities where they can start over?”

  “I’m optimistic, young lady, but please don’t make any promises until I do more research in each specific case. I’ll do my best to help, of course.”

  Dianne returned to the waiting women and started her tarot card readings. As she progressed through each individual situation, her interpretations aligned with her expectations.

  Facing persecution at home, the Syrian women needed to move onward to someplace new. The Iraqi women had murkier futures, each with a path to happiness and prosperity at home in Mosul or in distant lands. After a private debate, the five Iraqis decided to return to their friends and families.

  The empath walked to Liam’s room and found the young hunter sleeping.

  Seated in a large chair, her brother slept with his face in his palm. Beside him, Connor was sleeping but stirred when she entered the room. “Is there a decision?”

  “The Iraqi ladies would like to go home, and the Syrian ladies would like a fresh start. Can you help with that?”

  “I’m sure the order can help the young ladies get home, and creating new starts for three people is a lot easier than for eight. Let’s just say I’m quite optimistic.”

  CHAPTER 43

  Two days later, Dianne dreamt of a woman on a cross, blood pouring from her wound.

  She called out in her nightmare. “Why are you here again?”

  The blood ceased to flow, the cross evaporated, and the unwounded misty maiden appeared. “Help the others.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Like a lifting fog, the whiteness drifted from the Israeli sacrifice, revealing a human being. Raven black hair framed a face with dark eyes. “You helped me. You redeemed all of us whom he killed. But you must do more.”

  “Why? I freed you all. I’ve killed two wraiths already.”

  “You destroyed two monsters, but there are more like them, and there are deceased victims like me in need of redemption.”

  “Am I really going to be called to kill a third?”

  The Israeli women smiled. “This will be the last time we speak before I pass. So, please forgive me, but I must remind you that you already know the answer.”

  “Because I’m an empath, and I know?”

  “Precisely. Thank you, Dianne. Good bye.”

  The empath awoke in her hotel room.

  Setting aside the prophecy of the freed maiden, she reached to the nightstand for her dagger. Somehow, she knew it was time to close a loose end.

  She sent her spirit across the city, seeking a man she remembered from a darker day. Taking over his body, she felt her awareness materialize in the auctioneer with shoulder-length black hair.

  Standing on the stage, she saw the familiar faces of the traffickers who bought and sold women in the city. The short and barrel-chested boss-seller was present, too. The opportunity was perfect.

  She made her possessed puppet walk off the stage and into the green room. He knocked on the door and waited for the security guard she considered worthy of saving to open it. The auctioneer followed him into the room.

  The guard gazed into his eyes. “Is that you, Dianne?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes. Hand them over.”

  One at a time, the guard extended four grenades.

  Dianne accepted them and slid them into the auctioneer’s pockets. “Get the girls into the bathroom for safety.”

  “I will. We’ll be fine. I can’t thank you enough.”

  Returning to the stage, the auctioneer faced the seedy crowd. Without speaking, Dianne grabbed the first grenade, pulled its pin and lobbed it to the far left. She then sent one to the far right. Then she sent a third to the middle left. Finally, she walked the fourth to the middle right, pulled its pin, and held it over his head.

  Her awareness returned to her body, and then she called upon the friendly guard. “May I see through your eyes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “The green room’s door blew off, but we’re fine in here. The girls are fine.” The guard walked towards the devastated smoky back room, found a dead guard, and picked up his rifle.

  “Can you get the girls out of there to safety?”

  “I think so. It will be good to use a weapon against these bastards. Hold on.” Aiming the rifle at a surviving
guard who writhed in pain on the floor, he released the man from this suffering. Then a sentry from the front door raced into the room, and the friendly guard gunned him down.

  “You got this, Ozan?”

  “Yes, I do. I’ll grab the keys from one of these animals and use their truck to get the women to safety. I thank you again. My family thanks you.”

  That evening at dinner, Dianne joined Liam with his father, Josh, and Nana. In celebration of the young hunter’s release from the hospital, she’d let him choose the restaurant.

  A wise man, he’d deferred to what Dianne wanted and selected Mediterranean fare. While she picked at pickled cabbage and warm bread, she watched the young hunter devour meat and rice wrapped in grape leaves.

  Dianne risked the question. “Do we need to get ready to take on a third wraith?”

  Connor kept his response calming. “The order hasn’t revealed a next assignment, if that’s what you mean.”

  “I’ve got a feeling we’re going to be called on again.”

  Liam powered through his food and swallowed. “Bloody hell. If you’ve got a feeling, then it may as well be written in stone.”

  “Not true. My feelings are just feelings. No future’s certain.”

  He jabbed his fork into another stuffed grape leave and aimed it at her. “Really? Name one example where one of your feelings proved untrue.”

  She frowned at him. “Don’t be a smartass.”

  “My son unfortunately can’t help himself. I sure hope he didn’t get the habit from me.”

  The young hunter spoke through hurried chews. “I’m not being a smartass. It’s a fair question.”

  Dianne dropped her cabbage and bread to her plate. “Fine. I’ll answer. When I threw my dagger at the wraith, I thought it would hit.”

  Liam glared at her. “Are you sure?”

  She looked away. “Ugh. Okay. No, I’m not sure. I also kind of knew I was supposed to place myself in danger against him.”

  “I knew it! That’s why I asked. You’re a walking prophecy.”

  Unable to stop herself, her grandmother made it worse. “That’s true. This has been going on in our family for generations.”