Emily Shadowhunter 4 - a Vampire, Shapeshifter, Werewolf novel.: Book 4: DAY WALKER

by Craig Zerf

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your aura. There’s no other way of putting it apart from saying that it’s all wrong. Well. Perhaps one could rather say that it is not correct. Parts are right.’

  ‘What?’ Questioned Emily again.

  ‘These overwhelming feelings of superiority that you keep feeling,’ he said. ‘When do you feel them the most?’

  Em shrugged. ‘Random times, actually. But I suppose mainly when I’m under stress. Particularly combat.’

  ‘Odd,’ noted the Prof. ‘You see, I’ve been thinking, and surely something as powerful as the Potestatum should be able to affect your thinking on a more constant basis. Id Est, you would feel superior, godlike even, all the time. Why only when you are under stress?’

  ‘Well, I do have a fairly strong personality,’ said Em. ‘Probably find that has something to do with it.’

  The Prof shook his head. ‘No, not nearly strong enough to fight even the tiniest shard of Excalibur. Even King Arthur fell to its commands and Sir Lancelot himself fell completely under its spell and he was quite possibly the most saintly man that I have ever met. No, there is something else. Can you bring forth your axe? I think that may be it.’

  Emily thought the axe into her right hand.

  The Prof peered closely at it and waved his hands around the blade, tutting and humming as he did so. Eventually he shook his head. ‘It has power, but not the correct sort. No, it’s not that.’

  ‘What exactly are you looking for?’ Asked Em.

  ‘A relic,’ answered the Prof. ‘Something with great power. There is something effecting the Potestatum…damned if I know what. This is very frustrating.’

  Em thought for a while and then she pulled the medallion that Ryoko had given her out from her shirt. ‘The Brightest Flame Casts the Deepest Shadow,’ she said softly.

  The Prof blinked and then did a double take. ‘How interesting,’ he said. ‘It has been hiding. I see it now but before, well, it simply wasn’t there.’ He walked to the door, poked his head out of the room and hollered for Merlin, magically enhancing the volume of his voice to ensure that the magician heard him. The magically amped-up call echoed about the house like a claxon, shivering the walls and windows in a gale of sound.

  Merlin appeared at a run. ‘What?’ He yelled. ‘This had better be good, I spilt my tea.’ He gestured at his stained robe. ‘And this stuff that Tag brews doesn’t seem to come out in the wash. It’s so strong that it’s like a permanent tannin based dye. I have to use sorcery to get the stains out.’

  The Prof merely pointed at Emily.

  Merlin stared and was about to ask something when he did an identical double take to the one that the Prof had done. ‘God gods,’ he murmured. ‘Where did that come from?’

  ‘It’s always been here,’ said Em.

  ‘It’s been hiding,’ said the Prof with a grin. ‘Clever, isn’t it?’

  Merlin peered closer at the medallion. ‘Remarkable,’ he said. ‘Absolutely remarkable.’

  ‘Is it fighting the Potestatum?’ Asked the Prof.

  Merlin shook his head. ‘Doesn’t seem to be. Feels more like it’s attempting to join with it. But it can’t. Yin and Yang. Separately together.’

  ‘Umm…what the hell is going on?’ Asked Emily. ‘And what is the whole thing with my medallion?’

  ‘It’s a rare Japanese Butsudan Ancestral Receptacle,’ answered Merlin.

  ‘Rare,’ snorted the Prof. ‘It’s bloody unique. I’ve heard of them but never seen the like.’

  Emily shook her head. ‘Sorry, means nothing.’

  ‘It’s like a repository for the spirits of your ancestors. Well, not their spirits as such but their residual power left in this plane. Basically put, I suppose one could call it a guardian angel of sorts. It protects you from harm. However, this one has never been merged.’

  ‘And what would that mean?’ Asked Em as she became more and more confused.

  ‘Activated,’ explained the Prof. ‘For a receptacle to work correctly it needs to be merged or bonded to the person that is wearing it. For this one to have achieved what it has without merging is remarkable.’

  ‘So can you activate it?’ She asked Merlin.

  The old magician nodded but at the same time he looked doubtful.

  ‘You’re not sure, are you?’ Said Em.

  ‘Oh, I am sure,’ assured Merlin. ‘I can do it. It’s a simple awakening spell…’

  ‘But?’

  No one spoke.

  Finally the Prof blurted out a response. ‘It’s very painful.’

  ‘I can take it,’ said Em.

  ‘Very, very, very painful,’ continued the Prof.

  ‘Just do it,’ snapped Emily.

  Merlin shook his head. ‘It may kill you. We’re talking pain that it quite literally off the scale as far as human capacity is concerned.’

  Emily lay down on her bed. ‘This stupid Potestatum is going to kill me or one of my friends at any rate. I can’t function with the way that it’s changing me. If the medallion stops that then I have no option. Just do it. Now before I change my mind.’

  Merlin nodded and raised his hands, arms open wide. For several minutes nothing happened. Then a roiling ball of red flame coalesced between his arms. It writhed and boiled for a few seconds and then, with a clap as loud as thunder, it leapt at Emily, striking her in the chest and covering her body in ethereal flame.

  She stiffened with the shock as the pain rendering her absolutely immobile.

  And outside the Pack started to howl in sympathy.

  Tag came running through the door followed closely by William and Troy, both of whom were part transformed into their Wolfman modes.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Demanded William, his voice a guttural growl as it issued from his extended jaws.

  ‘Don’t panic,’ urged Merlin. ‘It’s for her own good. An awakening spell. It should reduce the negative effects of the Potestatum.’

  Both William and Troy were shaking with emotion and it took Merlin a few seconds to realize that they were both in extreme pain.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I should have known. The link that the Pack has with her. You’re feeling part of the pain.’

  ‘No shit,’ grunted Troy. ‘If she’s feeling this I feel sorry for her.’

  The Prof shook his head. ‘She’s not feeling what you are.’

  ‘Good,’ said Troy.

  ‘Oh no,’ continued the Prof. ‘I would say that the level of pain that is coursing through Emily’s body right now exceeds your pain by a level of magnitude. Perhaps even a hundred times more.’

  ‘No,’ screamed Troy. ‘It’ll kill her. No one can take that much pain.’

  ‘She has to,’ stated Merlin.

  ‘Not alone,’ snapped Troy. He knelt down beside her and put his arms about her rigid body. Then he forced himself to merge with her. Like he did when they communicated. At the same time he called for the Pack.

  ‘Yes,’ said William. ‘Good idea.’ He to sat next to Troy and placed his hands on Emily, joining his Omega mind with them all, coalescing them into one single entity.

  Then he spread the pain, handing it out equally to all the Pack. Drenching them in absolute agony. Drowning them in a sea of suffering.

  The day turned to night and back to day.

  With the rising of the sun Emily’s eyes opened, and she sat up.

  Their baptism of fire had ended.

  ***

  Two of the wolves died that night. Overcome by the pain that they had endured. Others could not move for days, broken and twisted. Their minds blank. Their bodies unable to respond as they slowly recovered.

  Emily walked amongst them. Laying hands. Communing. Her guilt overshadowed only by her love of the Pack. They had taken her pain and assimilated it. They had quite literally died for her.

  Taken away on spears of fire.

  They were her, and she was them.

  She was now not only The Daywalker, she was truly Pack,
And she could feel the Wolf inside her, ready to show itself. Ready to live. Ready to fight.

  She was Daywalker, Wolf and Guardian.

  She was Emily Shadowhunter.

  Chapter 16

  Kenneth, Bernard and Beulah. All three names had proven to be very popular around the turn of the last century when the three of them had been born. All in London and all within a few years of one another. None of them had actually fought in the First World War, all being between ten and fourteen years of age at the time. However, they remembered the Great War well. As did they the Second one. They hadn’t fought in that one either, even though they had all been of an age to enlist.

  By then they had all been turned and, quite frankly, couldn’t have given a toss as to whether the Nazis or the Allies won the war. After all, who bothers which herd of cattle was morally superior? One tends not to care much about the politics of their food.

  The sun had just set, and they had exited the darkened limousine driven by a familiar. It had been many years since they had last visited London. Back in the swinging sixties, in fact. But since then the old Capo had decreed that the Nosferatu pull back into the shadows. Feeding was done in licensed clubs. Bodies were disposed of and the entire thing became sanitized. Controlled.

  So the three friends had hunted far and wide instead. Secluded hamlets. The fringes of rock festivals. The homeless and itinerant. Because to them, as to many of the younger Nosferatu, the hunt was almost as important as the feed.

  But now there was a new sheriff in town. Nathan Tremblay was the Capo, and he had cried havoc and let slip the children of the night. ‘Hunt,’ he had told them. ‘Own the night.’

  And so, for the first time in many years, they had come to London.

  But before they fed, they decided to take a tour.

  ‘I was fourteen when the first Zeppelins came over,’ said Kenneth, pointing east. ‘I was living in Whitehall at the time. Elsie and Samuel both died that night. They were twins. Only three years old.’

  Bernard nodded. ‘They were impressive, weren’t they,’ he added. ‘Those massive air-ships rumbling through the night skies, dropping fire and death.’

  ‘Never actually saw one,’ admitted Beulah. ‘I was only three at the time. But I remember the blitz during the Second World War. I was part of the Brotherhood by then.’

  ‘Me too,’ concurred both of the male vamps.

  ‘Good times,’ grinned Beulah. ‘Absolute mayhem. You could kill at will. Feed whenever you wanted. No one was going to notice an exsanguinated body amongst all of that death.’

  ‘The sixties weren’t that bad either,’ said Bernard. ‘Free love, endless supply of drugs. People went missing all the time and the cops were crap. No DNA tests combined with rubbish procedural work. I mean, if you killed a vagrant or a prostitute or a druggy, the coppers didn’t even bother to look into it. Open and shut case. They’d call it “Death by Misadventure” or such-what.’

  ‘But that was pretty much the end of the lollipop,’ commented Beulah. ‘That’s when the Capo instituted the feeding clubs. Banned street hunting. Turned us into weak reflections of ourselves.’

  ‘And what was with the ban on Chinatown?’ Asked Kenneth. ‘I mean, why did they get a free pass?’

  Beulah shook her head. ‘Not sure and never asked. Well, actually I did ask a few times back in the day but the elders just stared at me and didn’t answerer. Some shook their heads and mumbled a few choice insults so I stopped asking. All I know is that ever since there has been a Chinatown, back in the early 1900’s the Nosferatu have been forbidden to even cross the threshold, let alone feed there.’

  ‘Well that edict no longer stands,’ said Kenneth with a grin. ‘So tonight we all go for a bit of Chinese.’

  Bernard laughed but Beulah looked a little pensive.

  ‘What’s the problem, Beulah?’ Asked Kenneth.

  She shook her head. ‘Nothing. I mean, the new Capo hasn’t actually revoked the rule.’

  ‘True,’ admitted Kenneth. ‘But he did say, feed where you want and do as you will. And I want some Chinese and I will get some.’

  Beulah nodded, convinced. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Let’s do it.’

  So the three bloodsuckers headed for Chinatown. For it was a brave new world and they were at the very cutting edge.

  They entered Chinatown from the SOHO side, climbing over a wall that brought them into an area behind a row of restaurants, figuring that they would take one of the chefs or busboys when they came out the back for a break.

  No sooner had they touched the ground when one of the doors opened.

  A figure stood in the doorway for a few seconds. Silhouetted against the harsh white light in the interior of the building.

  And then an ancient lady walked out.

  She wore a floor length iridescent silk robe that shone and glittered like the scales of a fresh-caught fish. Her gray hair was fashioned into a thick plait that hung down her back to below her knees and her face was a mass of wrinkles and lines. Small nose, almost no lips.

  Her eyes shone in the darkness. Deepest jade. Youthful, despite her obvious age. No, not youthful. Timeless.

  The three vampires hissed and spat. Beulah laughed, giddy with anticipation.

  But the Chinese woman did not flinch. She simply stared at them, her face calm, her demeanor one of mild irritation rather than the anticipated fear.

  ‘Why are you here, young children of the night?’ She asked.

  ‘Because we want to be,’ snapped Beulah.

  The ancient shook her head. ‘It is forbidden. We have long had a truce with the Jiangshi, the vampires.’

  ‘No,’ said Kenneth. ‘You are mistaken. There are no more truces with the Nosferatu. There is no more forbidden to the Nosferatu. We are to take our rightful place at the top of the pyramid. We go where we want and do as we please.’

  ‘It is you who are mistaken, child,’ informed the old woman. ‘Leave now and we shall speak no more of this. You are young. Crass. But in time you may find wisdom. However, if you do not leave most precipitously, then you will find nothing except for the true death.’

  The three vamps laughed in genuine amusement.

  ‘I was going to let you live, crone,’ said Kenneth. ‘Being the dried out old husk that you are, hardly seems worth the effort of feeding on you. But now because of your insolence, I’ll give you a go.’

  The bloodsuckers moved forward, fangs extending as they did so.

  But as they moved, the women collapsed. Seemingly melting as she did so. Her robes pooling on the floor like oil. Or blood.

  And then the puddle coalesced, writhing and twisting as it did so. Rising higher and higher. Not quite a snake. Not quite a lizard. And then it was there. Fully forty feet long, standing ten feet high. More than half of the body was a tail. Ten feet behind its massive scaled head stood two wings. Smoke rose from its nostrils and small tongues of flame flickered at the back of its open mouth.

  The vamps stopped in their tracks. Absolutely astounded.

  ‘Shit,’ whispered Bernard. ‘It’s a dragon.’

  The dragon tilted its head to one side, opened its mouth and unleashed a storm of blue-white fire.

  Seconds later all that was left of the errant Nosferatu were three slightly oily spots on the ground.

  The old lady sighed and walked back into the restaurant. There were people that she needed to call and she knew that it would be a long night. Not that she minded long nights. After all, she had not slept for over one thousand years and there was no way that she was going to start doing so now.

  Chapter 17

  As the new Capo of the Nosferatu, Nathan had access to all manner of arcane knowledge. Spells, ancient tomes and the collective mind-power of countless thousands of years experience.

  He could have called on all of this.

  Instead, however, he had simply used the internet. A few clicks on the City of London Police website and he knew the name of the Commander of Operations, O
rganized Crime Unit, as well as his office hours and extended itinerary. Commander Daniel Woolford.

  He printed out a photograph and a copy of his itinerary, called two Bloodwraiths, James and Carter, handed them the info and told them to take a couple of assistants, stake out the office that night and when the commander left, kidnap him and bring him to the chapterhouse. There was no problem regarding sunlight as the commander worked extremely long hours so they could grab him well after the sun went down.

  The plan worked perfectly…up to a point.

  At just after ten that evening, commander Woolford left the police headquarters with three colleagues. James approached him and informed the policeman that he should accompany them and to do so quietly to avoid any trouble.

  Woolford smiled. ‘Really?’ He asked. ‘Why, what seems to be the problem?’

  ‘No problem, commander,’ informed James. ‘Simply put, my leader wants to see you. Have a chat. He has sent me to collect you and so here I am.’

  Woolford laughed again. ‘Sorry, no can do. Tell your governor to make an appointment like everyone else. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going home.’

  James put his hand on the commander’s chest, stopping any forward movement. ‘You will come with us, sir. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. It’s up to you.’

  ‘Well then,’ said Woolford. ‘I choose the hard way. But before you continue with this farce, let me warn you, these three gentlemen who are accompanying me are the top three unarmed-combat instructors in the police force. As luck would have it, they were here for a meeting with me.’ Woolford chuckled. ‘Now isn’t that just the worst luck for you? Looks like you picked the most inopportune time for a kidnap attempt.’ He gestured towards the men who stepped forward. ‘Chaps, get rid of these idiots, thank you.’

  James raised an eyebrow. ‘Last chance, commander.’

  ‘Oh sod off,’ retorted Woolford.

  The three combat experts advanced. Moving steadily, on their balls of their feet. Alert but relaxed.

  James didn’t stir. But Carter blurred into movement, striking so fast that the breaking of bones sounded like a giant woodpecker hammering away at an Oak tree.