Knowledge Quickening

by D. S. Williams

  My nightmares had burst into stunning, terrifying reality. I walked slowly down the long room along the narrow red carpet, stopping between the chairs. It was bone-chilling to find out my friends looked far worse than they'd appeared in even the worst of my night terrors. It was evident they'd been starved of blood since their arrival and I could see how badly injured they were. They'd been stripped; their torsos, legs, arms and throats draped with multiple chains of silver. I mentally shook myself, trying to control my reactions to the horror I was witnessing, trying to process what I was seeing. Lucas had told me this was a myth. Vampires were impervious to silver, crosses, garlic, holy water. All of those were myths. And yet, the silver chains were embedded deeply into their bodies as if the silver had burnt straight through their skin. They had ghastly, painful looking burns all over their bodies, as though they'd been burnt by acid. The nightmares where I'd seen Striker being tortured with holy water were grimly, disturbingly accurate.

  This couldn't be real. I sucked in a deep breath, aware that I couldn't afford to lose focus now. Every one of them looked terrible, their faces haggard and paler than I'd ever seen them, as if the muscle and tendons beneath the skin had wasted away, leaving a paper thin, translucent layer of skin over the bone below. Their eyes were dull and lifeless - the beautiful color of their irises looked washed out, as if the color had been faded by endless hours under a blazing sun. The skin around their eyes looked bruised, and their lips were cracked and blistered.

  Lucas was nearest to me on the right and I cringed when I noticed the deep slashes peppering his chest. I'd seen this in a nightmare, seen the damage done to him with a silver knife. There was no blood - only the deep carvings into skin and the muscle beneath. Bone stood out white against the pale pink muscle and flesh and I shuddered. Ben sat on the opposite side of the aisle left between them. He too had been tortured, but his skin was a mass of burn marks, where holy water had been poured over his torso. The skin looked as if it had melted, like rivulets of candle wax running down his chest and shoulders. Bile rushed towards my throat and a tiny groan slipped from my lips unhindered.

  Both men lifted their heads and I registered two worrying facts. The first; they were almost out of their minds with hunger. And two; they were both horrified to see me here. I scrutinized the rest of the group, getting an indication of their condition. Gwynn was barely conscious, her copper red hair filthy and knotted, falling over her face where she'd slumped forward listlessly against her bindings. Her left breast was slashed deeply and gaping open. Her panties were ripped down both seams and had been placed back on her body as though they'd been torn away, and then put back in a sick facsimile of giving her some modesty. I hated to think what had caused them to be torn in the first place, but forced the thought to the back of my mind. Deal with it later; deal with the problems at hand right now.

  William looked dead, his face a picture of misery, as if he'd taken as much abuse as he could and died, the agony of his suffering still imprinted in his features. He appeared to have shut himself down completely, no animation, no sign of any sort of life came from his body. He looked like a corpse and I worried if that was exactly what he'd become.

  Marianne was unconscious and I was grateful for it, for her own sake. The torture she'd been subjected to was clear on her body, every square inch held massive amounts of damage, and her legs looked as though the skin had been removed with a potato peeler, great swathes of skin missing, leaving the pale flesh underneath. I couldn't begin to imagine what it must have felt like; knew I didn't want to.

  Acenith's face had been burned with holy water, and I was horrified when I saw her limp hand drooping down the side of the chair. Her fingers had been hacked off. I had to turn away, swallowing deeply to keep the nausea at bay.

  Rowena was conscious and her expression held a look which suggested she would be crying if she had tears to do so. Such devastation in such a gentle face, her hazel eyes no longer flashing with life and love. Now they held only unendurable pain and it was easy to see the abuse on her body. Like Gwynn, her underwear had been tampered with and anger flared in my heart, loathing the idea of what might have happened to her. Knowing it may very well be the truth and wondering how she and Gwynn could possibly survive if my worst fears were true.

  When I looked at Ripley, he was staring at me, his eyes belying the hunger which was threatening to destroy him. I was certain he wasn't seeing me - all he could see was a food source. Like Ben, he'd been attacked with holy water and there was a burnt image of a cross branded onto his thigh, the skin blackened and blistered.

  Holden and Striker sat together, side by side. I'd barely met Holden and yet looking at him, I could only feel sympathy for his plight. Like Lucas, he'd been cut up - one wound was so deep and long, I could see the bone of his ribs protruding through the flesh. Striker looked to be in the best condition of all of them, which wasn't saying much, but he'd always been the strongest. Now he didn't look so strong, he was badly beaten and cut up, but there was more of Striker in his eyes still, more than any of the others.

  I straightened my shoulders. I wanted to say something, anything to them that would make this better. But there was nothing I could say. I threw Striker a casual wink and he watched me, misery clearly visible in his blue eyes. They weren't the brilliant blue they had been, faded into a paler version than before, but he seemed to see and recognize me.

  “Arawn, I told you she would come!” I glanced up to see three male vampires enter the room from a door behind the dais, each one followed closely by two more men in suits. Judging by the suits and sunglasses, they were guards like the two who'd brought me in here. I only recognized one of the three vampires on the dais - which meant there were at least six on the council. Shit.

  I left the Tines behind and strode further into the room, stopping about five feet away from the three vampires. The one who'd spoken was perhaps my height, around five feet six inches with a slender build and a pockmarked, sallow face. His hair was stringy, dark brown and he had a Vandyke goatee and moustache. His body was slender to the point of skinniness, almost effeminate and he wore a long black jacket with a ruffled white shirt and black pants. His feet were encased in black loafers and I could feel his power, even from this distance, as if he was throwing it at me like a grenade.

  The second vampire, whom he called Arawn was tall and heavily built, a wall of powerful muscle. I recognized him from the photo Nick had produced, one of the council we didn't have a name for. He had blonde curls which framed a face bordering on pretty, rather than handsome. His eyes were icy blue, like two chips of frozen ocean water and he stared down at me, his expression calculating. His gaze took in every inch of my body, spending an excessive amount of time around my hips and breasts, his eyes lingering as if he could undress me with his gaze. He was wearing blue jeans and a silk t-shirt which strained at the seams to cover the bulging muscles beneath.

  The third vampire slumped onto one of the golden thrones, looking utterly unimpressed by the first vampire's excited announcement. His eyes were light green, many shades paler than my own, almost like looking at semi-opaque green glass. Short curly hair, a dark brown, hung almost to his shoulders and his face was long and lean. He was dressed like an ancient Roman, wearing a white tunic with a simple brown belt cinching it at the waist and leather sandals. His legs were bare from the knees down, solidly muscled and dusted with a light smattering of dark hair.

  “Well,” I said coldly, my green eyes defiant. “If it isn't the Three Stooges. My eyes grazed across the smaller vampire, who'd spoken.”Larry, Curly and…" I glanced across at the Roman guy, “Moe.”

  The vampire who'd spoken eyed me with barely concealed fury, his eyes flashing. “You won't be so insolent when I have created you, child.”

  “Where are the other salubrious members of the Consiliului Suprem de Drâghici Vampiri?”

  “They are not needed for this,” the vampire snapped coldly. “I will create you, and then you will be my vampire
to control.”

  “Ah, straight to the point. I like that.” I glanced back at the Tines, could see that through the debilitating haze of hunger, Lucas looked distraught, his eyes filled with hopelessness. “What have you done to my friends…Larry?”

  His energy blew across me, forcing my hair to shift in the sudden wind he'd created, but he did nothing else, no sign of an attack. “My name is Odin, you rude little bitch.” He breathed in sharply, as though he was drawing his anger back in on himself. When he spoke again, he smiled coldly. “We thought we would conduct a few little experiments whilst waiting for your arrival. Starving a vampire to death is such a tiring ordeal for those waiting.” He had moved closer, just a foot or two away and his two guards shadowed his every movement. “It was all rather boring. Arawn does get bored so very easily, you see, and he likes to keep his hand in.”

  I eyed him cautiously. “Keep his hand in?” I repeated, making it into a question.

  “Yes. Arawn has a rather sadistic streak, you see. He loves to see others in pain and to keep him from boredom, we must… feed his little foible. Otherwise, he has a tendency of becoming somewhat destructive. Who better to work with your friends here?” He turned to look at Lucas and the others, his eyes moving across them as if he gained great pleasure from their misery. “To amuse ourselves, first we tried to break them, to see how long they could retain use of their powers. We tested Ripley's mind reading abilities with a number of assessments. Sadly, he failed our tests. Rowena - poor thing - her ability as an empath has had her suffer greatly when we insisted she touch our current test subject while they were being brutalized. Such pain, I'm sure you can hardly imagine her suffering. Acenith and Striker attempted to help the others by controlling their agony, but it really did nothing to help their own suffering. It was rather entertaining to see them trying to calm the others, while we were cutting parts of their bodies.” He laughed suddenly, a chuckle which was cold and pure evil. “And of course, young Marianne - well, let's just say her future isn't looking very bright. She wasn't much of a challenge anyway, given that she couldn't even predict our arrival at their home. Probably a good thing we have worked with her, to ensure she's aware of how utterly useless she is.” He waved his hand towards my friends and I was pleased for the fearless sigil that Epi had shown me, drawn close to my heart. This guy was seriously creepy.

  He was walking around me in a slow circle, his gaze penetrating as he studied me and spoke again. “As they have begun to starve, Arawn came up with the marvelous idea of testing the validity of some of our myths. Imagine our surprise when we discovered truth in some of them. It appears that weakness allows old foes of the vampire to work. Garlic had no effect, of course, but I never expected it to. But you can't imagine our delight when Arawn discovered that silver could be used to bind them. Not only bind them, but burn into their skin as you see before you. They screamed, Charlotte, they screamed and screamed for days and couldn't move away from it, couldn't free themselves from it. We were interested to discover that it removed any remaining strength from them, which was quite useful because both Holden and Striker have been very naughty boys, trying to escape. That was when Arawn tested the theory of using silver knives on them, knowing the myth suggested a vampire could not heal a silver wound.” He chucked again. “It was wonderful to discover truth in that myth too, they now have all these magnificent wounds and not one of them will heal because of the silver used. Arawn has created quite a masterpiece from his work, don't you agree?”

  I remained silent, trying to digest what he was telling me, and then stopping myself. I couldn't think about it, didn't dare think about it now, not when I had so much still to do and we were all in such terrible danger. Better to push it to the back of my mind, focus on what I was here to do.

  Odin continued to talk, as if I was an enthralled guest and he couldn't wait to boast about his discoveries. “Holy water was remarkable. A few drops here and there on their skin - why, it burns like acid. It's been very entertaining, hasn't it, Hyperion?”

  I risked a quick look at Hyperion, who was looking on with bored nonchalance. When I looked back, Odin was staring at me as if mesmerized. “May I touch you?” he asked softly. “You have… an angelic beauty about you, my dear.”

  I side-stepped away from him, out of reach. “No thanks. I'm not into scrawny ancient bastards.”

  His eyes hardened until they were like pieces of obsidian, sparking with silver lightning. “You really do need to be taken under control. Hanging around with werewolves and shape shifters, I'm afraid you have developed a rather intolerable rudeness about you, my dear.”

  “I like it,” I retorted. “I'd rather hang with shape shifters and werewolves than you, any day. They're a way better class of people. And I'm not your dear, you asshole.”

  Again with the draught of wind which swirled around me for a second, then dissipated. When he spoke again, his voice was calm, thoughtful. “I'm most surprised you came alone.”

  “Oh come on, Odin. You knew I was coming alone. Your spy informed you of that fact.” I turned my back to him, stepping towards Lucas. “Did you tell my friends why you wanted me so badly?”

  “There was no reason to tell them. They have served their purpose and will be destroyed, now that we have you.”

  When I turned back, Odin was staring at me and my skin prickled. He was practically salivating as he studied my body from top to bottom and his fangs had run out. “That hardly seems fair. They're suffering; they should at least get to know why.” I glanced at Lucas, then to Ben and further along to where Striker sat. “You see, the vampire council has been after me for a while. They heard about me from those vampires that came to your house, all those months ago. They knew about my abilities and knew that my talents were unusual, to say the least. They wanted Armstrong to capture me, hand me over to them. What they didn't allow for was that he would try and keep me, take the power for himself. In fact,” I turned back to stare at Odin, my green eyes icy cold, “they really screwed up the plan. More than once. You see, the important part of the plan was keeping me human until I was nearly twenty one. So they left me alone for a while and waited, watching from the sidelines to see how much talent I actually had.” I looked at Lucas, watching his almost-dead eyes with a sinking heart. “They realized that I'd left your house and traced me to Conal and his pack. But by then, I'd discovered more about my abilities and knew more about what I was facing. So they put this master plan into place. Kidnap you, hold you, torture you - knowing that I would come. What he didn't tell you, was why they wanted me so badly. What it is about me that's so important to them. What he didn't tell you, is I'm one of Nememiah's Children.” I looked back down at Lucas, felt my heart breaking a little. “I'm an Angel. Who would have thunk it?”

  Chapter 42: In the Devil's Lair

  Odin's face was suddenly expressionless, his eyes the only part of him showing any emotion and it was fury which bled out. “Take the backpack from her. She will have the weapons in there.”

  The pack was wrenched roughly from my shoulders. The guard handed it to Odin and he unzipped the top, peering inside. He put his hand into the bag and drew the contents out. “Rocks? You brought rocks with you?” he stated incredulously.

  I was deliberately staring at my fingernails and waited a few seconds before I spoke, making my tone insolent. “I figured you'd take any weapons I had. I was sure one of your goons would frisk me the minute I set foot in the place. Actually, you took longer than I thought you would. Not very security-conscious, is it, to let me wander in here with a backpack and not have someone search it?”

  He eyed me suspiciously, throwing the rocks in a fit of temper so they scattered across the floor, the noise echoing throughout the room. “What trickery is this?” he snarled.

  I shrugged nonchalantly. “No trickery. Figured if nothing else I could throw a rock at your butt ugly head, see if I could make you bleed. Tell me, Odin, if you're so God-damn special and powerful, if you bleed do you want
to bite your own neck because it'll get your rocks off?”

  He stared at me, as if trying to weigh me up and finding he couldn't understand me. It was exactly what I'd hoped for. “I think I will teach you a lesson, see how impertinent you are once you've tasted a little of my special gift.”

  “No!” Lucas rasped desperately, the sound painful to my ears.

  I turned to glance back at Lucas, wanting to reassure him but before I could blink, Arawn was beside him and drawing a blade his pocket. He slashed it down Lucas's face, cutting his cheek open from his eye to his chin. He dropped the knife and smashed his fist into Lucas's stomach and the sound of the impact ricocheted around the room like a thunderclap. Lucas's face convulsed in agony, but his eyes remained on me through the haze of pain which gripped him. There was nothing I could do, except to widen my eyes, hoping he would understand that I was okay, that I had this under control. There was no way of letting him know that clearly, when he didn't understand how much my abilities had increased in recent months, but I would do anything I could to try and get him to realize it was okay.

  I turned back to Odin, swallowing deeply as I tried to blank out the sight of Lucas's face, the deep cut in his handsome features. “Do your worst, Odin.”

  Odin smiled callously, staring directly into my eyes. Again I felt that force of wind around me, and then I could feel something wavering around the perimeters of my mind, although I was uncertain what it was. I stared back coldly, my mind safe from his power and cocooned by the spirits. For a minute, Odin continued, then the smile on his lips faltered and he blinked.

  “Sorry, Odin,” I said, a deliberately bored tone in my voice. “Your special gift, whatever the hell it is, doesn't work on me. Oh, and by the way - you should ditch the ridiculous beard and moustache. You look like a pathetic wannabe musketeer.”

  Odin studied me for a minute, maybe two, scrutinizing me carefully. “I grow tired of this. I believe I will just move on to creating you and get it over with. You will learn to treat me with respect.”