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

by Craig Zerf

  The Daywalker fought back as best he could but he was no match for the Alpha. The protector.

  Within seconds there was not enough vampire left intact in order to heal or rejuvenate.

  Troy bound over to Emily to find that she had dispatched all the other Bloodwraiths. Her axe was still in her hand. Oddly, the innocent tourists were not moving. They simply sat on the floor, their faces blank. No fear. No emotion. Nothing. Troy tilted his head to one side and sniffed at them.

  ‘I glamoured them,’ said Em as she saw the quizzical look on the wolf’s face. ‘I’ll wipe their memories of the worst just before we go.’

  The Alpha morphed back into Wolfman mode. ‘Outside,’ he gasped as he fought against the pain that was consuming his body. ‘There are vamps more outside.’

  As he spoke, three more Bloodwraiths ran in, their movements so fast as to appear like stop-motion photography. One instant they were at the door and the next millisecond they were next to Emily.

  Troy tensed his muscles, ready to fight. But there was no need. Emily’s axe blurred and two Bloodwraiths dropped, headless to the floor. Then she punched the third one on the side of his face and his head literally exploded from the impact.

  Troy blinked in amazement. Four of them had almost killed him and Em had taken almost that many down in less than a second.

  She grinned at him. ‘It’s a flaw in their training,’ she said. ‘They’re fast and all that, but as soon as they saw that I was just as fast, they tend to anticipate. So all that I do is start a movement and then stop and attack from a slightly different angle. It throws them completely. They just cannot stop their initial reaction in time, given that it all happens on microseconds.’

  Troy laughed, changing back to human form as he did so. ‘That was just a very convoluted way of saying that you are much faster than them,’ he said.

  Em nodded. ‘I was trying not to sound too arrogant.’

  Troy smiled and then pitched forward as his injuries overcame him.

  Emily rushed over and caught him, holding him tight against her to stop him falling to the floor.

  ‘You’re naked,’ she said. ‘Again.’

  ‘I know,’ whispered Troy.

  And he kissed her.

  Chapter 29

  Nathan shook with fury. Next to him the dying body of a Bloodwraith lay twitching, throat torn open and limbs broken. In a fit of pique, the Capo had killed the messenger for bringing bad news.

  The Nightwalker, Bartholomew, stood at the door and avoided the Capo’s eyes while he waited for him to calm down.

  Finally Nathan spoke, his voice quivering with rage. ‘Talk to me, Bartholomew. You checked the place out, what happened?’

  ‘By the time that I got there, Capo, the area had been cleared. But there was still enough evidence to put the puzzle together.’

  ‘Good, had the girl been there?’

  ‘She had been seen heading for the building so, yes, we must assume that she was.’

  ‘And how many wolves with her?’ Enquired Nathan. ‘Ten? Twenty?’

  Bartholomew took a deep breath and then cleared his throat.

  ‘Do not be nervous,’ commanded Nathan. ‘Tell me the truth.’

  ‘One, my Capo.’

  Nathan screeched loud and long. The picture windows shivered and two light bulbs popped, such was the amplitude and pitch. ‘One?’

  ‘Yes, Capo,’ affirmed the Nightwalker. ‘Judging from the blood spatter and marks on the walls and floor, there was the girl and a single wolf. From what I can deduce, the girl killed most of the brethren. The wolf took care of four, including the Nightwalker, Carl.’

  ‘Impossible,’ muttered Nathan.

  ‘What, Capo?’ Asked Bartholomew.

  ‘Both,’ snapped the Capo. ‘A wolf cannot beat three Bloodwraiths, and a Nightwalker. They are the very best of the best. And for the girl to have single-handedly brought the true death to another thirteen of our most gifted warriors. I simply cannot…no, I will not believe it. What about the other two teams? At least they must have slaughtered the wolves that came for them.’

  Bartholomew shook his head. ‘Sorry, Capo,’ he answered. ‘The wolves never came. They must have suspected that it was some sort of trap.’

  ‘If they knew, then the girl must have known,’ said Nathan. ‘That means that she was confident enough to walk into the lion’s den knowing that she could defeat the lion.’ He looked up at Bartholomew, his eyes bright red with anger. ‘What say you? The truth.’

  ‘I agree, my Capo,’ answered Bartholomew. ‘She has become a force to be reckoned with. As has the wolf that she was with. We must assume that the wolf was special. If all of them were as powerful as that one then they would have simply sprung all of the traps.’

  Nathan nodded. ‘True. Well done. So, if we can take out the girl and the single wolf then I feel that we shall have little to worry about.’

  Nathan walked to the window and looked out at the night. ‘Bartholomew. Go and fetch me some humans. Ten. Anyone will do but make sure that no one sees them. Take them to that room that Mister Stopes used to use to interrogate people.’

  ‘As you command, Capo,’ said Bartholomew. ‘May I ask why?’

  ‘Yes,’ acceded Nathan. ‘I need them because I’d like to make a collect call to someone who might be able to help us out.’

  ***

  The room stank. Four of the people that Bartholomew had found were homeless vagrants that hadn’t seen a bathroom for many years. Two were street prostitutes, and the others were made up of two tourists a young girl and an itinerant salesman.

  Nathan ordered Bartholomew from the room and locked the door. Then he turned and faced the group, stilling them with his coercion as he did so.

  ‘Normally I would have a bit of fun with you all,’ he said to them. ‘But unfortunately this is business.’ He shook his head and sniggered. ‘All work and no play makes Nathan a very dull boy.’ His fangs and talons extended, and he walked up to the first homeless man. ‘Time to die,’ he whispered as he drew his talons across the man’s neck, severing his carotid artery. The man sank to the floor, shivering slightly with reaction as his life’s blood drained away.

  ‘Morrigan,’ called Nathan. ‘I need you.’

  He moved on to the next man and repeated the procedure, calling out for the goddess of war once again.

  Slowly he moved down the line, killing and calling. Entreating. Offering his sacrifices to the entity known as Morgana and Morgan la Fey and Macha and Nemaine.

  To the goddess known as, The Morrigan.

  And just before he got to the young girl who was the last in the line, a blue light appeared in the room, flickering and pulsating before it metamorphosed into a huge crow and then, finally, a beautiful woman.

  ‘You came,’ said Nathan.

  ‘I could not refuse the blood sacrifice,’ answered The Morrigan.

  ‘Oh well, looks like I don’t need you,’ said Nathan to the young girl. ‘Would you like to leave?’

  The girl nodded, her face drawn but relieved at her unbelievable good fortune.

  Nathan laughed. ‘As if.’ He ripped her throat open and drank deeply before dropping her corpse onto the floor. ‘Sorry,’ he apologized to the goddess. ‘Hungry. Come, let us leave this charnel house and talk in the withdrawing room.’

  The two of them left and headed for the open plan lounge with its views over the park. ‘May I offer you some sustenance?’ Enquired Nathan.

  The Morrigan shook her head.

  ‘I have some particularly good red wine,’ continued the Capo. ‘Chateau Margaux 1787. Two hundred and sixty years old. Also Cognac. A lovely Massougnes 1805. I recommend it most highly.’

  ‘The Napoleonic Wars,’ said The Morrigan. ‘1805, the Battle of Trafalgar.’ Her eyes misted over with memories and her lips twitched. A tiny hint of a smile. ‘I believe I shall take you up on that offer, Nathan,’ she said. ‘It was a good year. I remember it well.’

  The Capo
snapped his fingers and, with vampire enhanced speed, Bartholomew appeared beside The Morrigan and offered her a crystal brandy balloon with a large measure of the two hundred and twelve year old spirit.

  She held it to her nose and inhaled the flavor. Smoky, sweet and earthy. The memory of cannon fire, musket smoke and screaming horses. Of men crying out in agony. The triumphant cheers of the British sailors as they bested the combined might of the Spanish and French navies. The deaths of almost seven million people. Good times they were. Oh how she missed them. How she yearned for war once again. But a war centered on her and her beliefs. A genuine war in the old style. Not one of these modern wars carried out by drone and aircraft and diplomacy. And you got little more genuine than the ancient battle between Vampire and Humanity. The age old struggle between Good and Evil.

  With a flick of her wrist she downed the rest of the cognac. ‘Right then,’ she said. ‘Why did you call me?’

  So Nathan told her about Emily and her wolf. How the girl had bested thirteen of his top warriors with relative ease. And how the wolf had done the same to one of his Nightwalkers.

  ‘She has become exponentially more powerful than before,’ said Nathan. ‘I must be honest. It is a worry.’

  ‘You only have yourself to blame,’ pointed out The Morrigan. ‘What were you thinking? Turning her into a vampire.’

  ‘I never thought that they would permit her to live,’ argued Nathan. ‘I was punishing her.’

  The Morrigan shook her head. ‘I have no idea why you are so obsessed with that girl. After all, she wasn’t that big a problem before you turned her.’

  ‘She was,’ snapped Nathan. ‘Things were fine until she came along. With her superior attitude and her long blonde hair and red dresses. Flaunting herself for Sir William like a tart.’

  The Morrigan said nothing. After all, what could one say to a man who had over a century of bitterness and jealousy locked into his very soul? A man who had allowed the poisons of envy and animosity to fester and breed instead of using his time to grow and nurture his inherent goodness. Humans were so fickle. So short sighted.

  Finally the goddess spoke. ‘I can help,’ she said. ‘Give me a week. I shall return when I am ready.’

  Nathan went down on one knee. ‘Thank you, Goddess.’

  ‘I’m not doing this for you,’ sneered The Morrigan as she shifted back into the guise of a giant crow. ‘I’m doing it for me.’

  And with a flash of blue she disappeared.

  Chapter 30

  ‘Etalol ita sequitur est quodo reperio sequi Morrigan,’ shouted Merlin as he let the spell go.

  Red and yellow light flared in the room and the air filled with an ochre-colored smoke.

  ‘Reperio sequi Morrigan,’ repeated the Prof as he swung a silver thurible about him, spreading thick clouds of purple incense.

  Slowly the ochre smoke dissipated and then, when only the purple smoke from the thurible was visible, both Merlin, and the Prof commanded together.

  ‘Quaerere...seek.’

  A soundless explosion of blue light filled the room and then all the smoke was gone. The room was clear, smelling faintly of ozone.

  Both men looked like they had just run a marathon. Sweat dripped from their faces and their clothes were wet enough to wring. They were both breathing heavily and the Prof’s right arm was actually trembling from the effort.

  They left the room and headed for the kitchen to get something to quench their thirst.

  William was sitting at the table, having come back from London for the day to check up on the forest getaway. In front of him was a huge pile of barely cooked steak. He was eating with his hands.

  ‘Hey,’ he greeted. ‘What’s with the exhausted looks?’

  ‘We’ve been putting a spell together over the last few days and it’s been rather taxing to say the least,’ answered Merlin.

  ‘Why?’ Questioned William. ‘Big one? What was it for?’

  ‘No, no,’ said the Prof. ‘Not at all. Small it was. Almost infinitesimally small. You see, it had to be so tiny so as not to be detected by the recipient.’

  Merlin gave the Prof a stern look and the old Boggart stuttered to silence.

  ‘Yes,’ mumbled the Prof. ‘Most small. Tea? Anyone? Unfortunately Tag is not here to make us some of his splendid brew but I shall endeavor to do it justice.’

  William laughed. ‘Good God, how did that happen?’

  ‘What?’ Asked Merlin.

  ‘Tag’s tea,’ answered William. ‘How did that become our drink of choice? I don’t even know how he makes it. Sweet, overpowering, tastes like no other tea ever. And now it’s our beverage of choice. The first time I tasted it I had to force it down. Now it’s like a drug, I actually crave it.’

  ‘Me too,’ admitted the Prof

  ‘And I,’ added Merlin

  There was a long pause and then Merlin spoke. ‘Actually, what the hell does he put in that brew of his? I reckon that maybe we need to find out.’

  ***

  The Morrigan flared into being in her cottage, assuming the guise of an old woman, a form that she was most comfortable with.

  She lifted a flagstone from the floor and took out a small silver box. The box was unadorned, plain and solid with no discernable keyhole or lid.

  Then she fetched an old bone-carved key from a secret compartment in her wall, above her fireplace. As she placed the key near to the box, a keyhole appeared. She inserted the bone-carved key and turned. Another keyhole appeared next to the first.

  She took a small iron key that was hanging from her necklace and inserted that. A third keyhole opened.

  She chanted a phrase in a guttural language, moving her hands in the air to trace an intricate pattern as she did so. And a third key materialized in her hand. This one was made of ice and she inserted it and turned quickly before it melted.

  A line appeared to reveal a lid which then sprang open to expose the contents.

  There were three items. Items of such magical power and rarity that they warranted the rigmarole of opening that the Morrigan had just gone through.

  A single dragon scale, like a piece of solid rainbow some two inches square.

  A clipping from a fairy’s wing.

  And about three inches of frayed, sturdy rope. She took the rope out and concealed it in her robes before closing the lid and returning the magical box to its hiding place.

  This piece of rope was a cutting from the god Poseidon’s net and, as such, when even a tiny piece was cast into a weapon it could capture and hold the strongest opponent. At least for a short while. Long enough to physically bind them.

  With a blast of light the Morrigan was gone.

  Chapter 31

  To not fear someone who could defeat almost twenty Bloodwraiths with ease would be the act of a stupid lunatic.

  And although even Nathan would admit that mentally he may be a bit different – he was far from stupid.

  So he had decided to move his England HQ to a more defensible spot. A place where Emily would not be able to waltz in unannounced and rip his head off. Not that he considered himself to be a lesser warrior than her but it paid to be prudent. After all, what good was immortality if some slip of a girl came along and ruined it all by turning you into a pile of hamburger?

  Once again the Capo was amazed at just how much one could achieve in a short space of time if money was literally no object. Especially when the offer of wealth was backed up by a show of fangs and the promise of a long painful death.

  Nathan had contacted the CEO of a major building and contacting company, offered him over twenty million to do a job that would normally cost less than five. Then he had explained the time constraints involved. Id est, he wanted it done by yesterday. And, finally, he had provided and extra incentive by tearing the man’s secretary to shreds in front of him and then promising the same would happen to him, his family, his friends and even his casual acquaintances if the job was not completed on time.

  Mon
ths of work became days and Nathan was now ensconced in his own private maximum security fortress situated in an industrial complex on the Isle of Dogs in the London docklands, opposite the Greenwich Dock. High fencing, infrared alarms and CCTV. A double fence system filled with guard dogs. Nathan was under no illusion that the dogs would slow a wolf down, however, they were there to alert the brethren to a wolfs presence, not to defend them in any way. Because a dog will go apoplectic with fear whenever a werewolf gets within a thousand yards of it.

  On top of that there were subtle guard towers every hundred feet. They looked like mere observation posts but each one held a human sniper. They were the very best mercenaries that money could buy.

  The central warehouse had been converted into an uber-luxury living space for the Capo.

  Industrial loft chic.

  But many of the rooms were empty, and many corridors led to dead ends. Some corridors were even booby-trapped with silver-shot claymore mines attached to trip wires. A veritable maze of death. A nightmare for any attacking force that managed to get inside the perimeter.

  Not that Nathan envisaged that happening. The place was totally impenetrable.

  ‘Ha,’ he said to himself as he stood alone in his private rooms. ‘Let’s see you get through that security.’

  ‘Beware of overconfidence,’ observed a voice behind him.

  Nathan literally jumped six feet into the air as he spun around. ‘Shit,’ he cussed. ‘How the hell did you get in here?’

  The Morrigan sat in one of the wing back chairs, a vague look of amusement on her face. ‘I’m a god. I go where I want.’

  ‘But how did you even know where I was?’

  ‘We have a link. From now on I will always know where you are.’

  A look of consternation flashed across Nathan’s face.

  The Morrigan shook her head. ‘The answer to what you are thinking is, no. Emily cannot find you, nor can she enter the way that I do. So you can rest easy in your prison.’