The Tome of Bill (Book 5): Goddamned Freaky Monsters

by Rick Gualtieri

  Holy shit, that was pretty fucking smart. He’d essentially turned their frowns upside down with just a few well-placed spoonfuls of bullshit. It was impressive.

  “Do not get me wrong.” He stopped and turned to face us, his gaze falling on Ed primarily. “There will be an accounting for this.”

  That wouldn’t be pretty for any of us. I seriously doubted it would shed more light on the situation other than our compounded lies. We’d been ordered to hunt down Sheila and instead allied with her - tried to save her. For me, there was never any other option.

  “I do not know what you are other than not fully human. I have sensed as much since I arrived. That was faith magic you somehow employed, yet you are no Icon.”

  “How do you...”

  “Please.” James softened his tone a bit. “I observed you all up in Canada. In my many years, I have come to trust in my judgment of others. I can tell you are a loyal friend of Dr. Death’s, but a man of even moderate faith? I think not.”

  I chuckled, despite the seriousness of the situation. It was either laugh or run off screaming into the night.

  Fortunately for us all, Tom's lack of tact in situations like these was sometimes a near godsend. “So what has you so spooked?”

  That was a double facepalm for Ed and me. There were so many better ways to ask such a question than to insinuate one of the most powerful creatures we’d ever met was shaking in his boots like a preteen in a haunted corn maze. One of these days, I really needed to take out a large life insurance policy on him. The odds of collecting were certainly in my favor.

  James, though, proving that he was perhaps as spooked as my friend had implied, merely uttered a sigh as he reached the stairs leading down to the subway. “Many of these myths are from before my time. I had hoped my remembrance of them was wrong, which is partially why I left Colin behind.”

  “I’m not following,” I replied.

  “Believe me when I say that I fully understand your feelings toward my assistant.” James started downward into the closed station, pausing only to casually rip the locked gate open. “I am well aware that even on his best days, Colin is near insufferable.”

  “Then why...”

  “Because he is good at what he does. He is highly organized and has a near photographic memory. Our archives are not like some sort of...Wikipedia page. They are vast and have been laid down in myriad of tomes across a multitude of languages - some long dead. I doubt even Lord Alexander could retrieve certain bits of lore quickly. Yet Colin has an almost preternatural ability to make sense of them, cross referencing their many secrets. Before leaving, I gave him full authority to access them.”

  That didn’t sound good. Knowledge was power, and James had handed a potential atom bomb to a smarmy dickhead who just so happened to despise me. “Isn’t that a bit...risky?”

  “Perhaps, but not as risky as what has potentially been unleashed against us.”

  “Is that what he called about?”

  “Yes, and now with the eyewitness accounts by the Howard Beach Coveners to back up your own claims, I fear we are hunting a creature who may be far more than just a vampire with dissenting political leanings.”

  He turned and faced us again, the dark tunnel looming behind him.

  “The Cult of Ib has returned.”

  The Cult of Ib

  “I think I speak for all of us when I ask, what’s a Cult of Ib?”

  “Yeah,” Ed added. “And why was he coming after me earlier? Normally, when things go to shit, Bill is the target.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Things were unnaturally quiet. I mean, I’ve been in far more than my fair share of the New York City underground and there’s usually something scurrying about. Now it was silent, save for the occasional drip of water. I began to wonder if the rats knew something we didn’t.

  Luckily for us, James was around to entertain us with a ghost story as we continued walking along the exceedingly spooky tunnel.

  “We were not always the civilized beings you know us as.”

  “Civilized?” my roommates and I rang out in unison.

  “Comparatively speaking, of course,” James added with a chuckle that held no humor.

  “So this Ib, is he the guy we’re looking for?”

  “Of course not,” he replied dismissively. “I have no idea who our quarry is yet and nothing to go on but his actions - which are potentially disturbing enough. Ib, however, is a myth.”

  “So, what, he’s like some sort of god or demon?” Tom asked.

  “Hardly. According to some of our legends, Ib was the original vampire - the first of us to walk this Earth.”

  * * *

  I couldn’t help but feel underwhelmed by his revelation. I mean, what the fuck kind of name was Ib? Dracula, now that’s kind of cool. In Marvel Comics, it was some dude named Varnae - not exactly soul-searingly terrifying, but still not too bad. But Ib? That sounded like something an online gamer might name their pet Iguana.

  “So what was this Ib like?”

  “I honestly have no idea. As I said, I believe the tale to be myth or allegory. All cultures have beliefs about creation. Why should ours be any different? The progenitor of our species is unimportant, though. What matters are his zealots and the atrocities they committed in his name.”

  This was starting to get interesting, albeit disturbing at the same time. I was always fascinated to hear some of our ancient history - at least the shit that involved blood and guts. The political crap could put me to sleep faster than my college philosophy lectures. Considering his tone, though, I had the feeling James’s story wasn’t going to explore the finer details of robust metaphysical debate.

  “You are well aware of our current social hierarchy. The coven system has been in place for millennia. It is structured, orderly, and has allowed us to grow alongside humanity in a symbiotic manner. It may not always be fair, but it is logical in its...”

  “Watch out, Bill!”

  A hand fell upon my shoulder and dragged me to the left, causing me to stumble.

  “What the fuck, man?” I turned to glare at Tom.

  “You almost stepped on the third rail.” He shined the beam of his flashlight ahead of me - not that I needed it to see.

  “Oh...thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Vampire or not, that could have been a somewhat embarrassing fate. It was well known amongst city dwellers that those things delivered a shit-ton of voltage, enough to make me wish I was still being tazed in my dungeon cell. I made it a point to pay better attention to where I was walking.

  James continued talking on despite our mishap behind him. Fortunately, he was still just blathering on about covens and the First - explaining things as if I hadn’t been dragged kicking and screaming into the world of vampire politics.

  “...The Cult, though, couldn’t have been more at odds with our modern way of thinking. Their primary beliefs centered on mysticism and portents. The advancements of man held no interest for them.”

  “Hold on a second. So what about all that prophecy bullshit everyone’s been shoving down my throat? That sounds pretty mystic to me. Oh, and those blind psychics in the cave of heavy drugs weren’t exactly calling up this shit on their iPhones.”

  James stopped in his tracks and I nearly bumped into him. “You actually met the elder seers?”

  “Yeah. Alex took me on a field trip to see them. I told you earlier.”

  “Interesting,” he mused. “They and the prophecies are hold overs - the last remnants of the old ways. Magic is most obviously real, so we would be fools to ignore it entirely. However, for the most part, we do not let it govern our day-to-day lives. As for the seers, rumor has it their order is actually descended from the Cult.”

  “Oh?”

  “I have heard it said, although none have ever confirmed it to me, that the blinding ritual is only partially to attune their senses. Some say it was originally ins
tituted as punishment, so that they would never forget their place in this world.”

  “Is it me,” Ed asked, “or does none of this make much fucking sense so far?”

  “Indeed it does not,” James replied. “As I said, much of this was thought to be just rumor or myth - anecdotes to keep the younger vampires amused. Now I begin to fear it may be more than that.”

  “So what if it is?” I asked. “Seriously, what harm is a bunch of mystics right now? What are they gonna do, sit around and get stoned while everyone else is off fighting Bigfoot?” Truth be told, that didn’t sound so bad to me. Hell, if that were the case, I’d consider signing up.

  James spun around to face me. “It is very simple.” He raised a hand and poked my chest for effect - a small token effort on his part, but it packed enough power behind it to make me wince in pain. “This group of stoned mystics, as you so flippantly put it, nearly destroyed us all twelve hundred years ago.”

  Oh, well, when he put it that way...

  * * *

  As we made our way slowly back to Manhattan, James continued to explain things. I’d known a bit about our war with the Feet and how the vampires had sided with mankind to fight them off - resulting in the Humbaba Accord, a treaty that had held the peace for about five thousand years...that is, until yours truly came along.

  According to him, the Cult of Ib rose to prominence shortly after the treaty was signed - long before we were organized into covens and the formation of the Draculas. At first, they served as a priesthood of sorts for the vampire world, but as their power grew, they assumed partial influence over the warrior caste as well.

  The problem? These guys were fucking psychos. They were the role models such kindly folks as the Assyrians and Aztecs based their cultures on. We’re talking blood sacrifices, genocidal culling, the works.

  Their shit eventually started to seriously tick off the more progressive-minded members of the vampire community - not to mention the humans who were busy forming their own empires.

  If you’re thinking this powder keg eventually ignited into a bloody-ass civil war, give yourself a cigar. What a surprise - super-powered beings eventually decided to kick each other’s asses rather than talk through their problems. Sounds like comic book material to me.

  “Okay, so it was vamps killing vamps.” Tom said, wheezing a bit. The long walk had started to catch up to him.

  Thankfully, the five of us were nearing our destination - Calibra had caught up with us at some point around Canal Street.

  “It was far more than that,” James explained. “It was a very different world in those days. Freewills mercilessly led the charge on either side. Wholesale slaughter became commonplace. Come the sunrise, it is said ash covered whole battlefields. What we had all fought so hard to avoid at the hands of the Feet...”

  Tom and I dissolved into laughter at that.

  Calibra bared her fangs, no doubt to remind us of how fucking disrespectful we were being, but James waved her off.

  “I am well used to it by now,” he said with just a touch of sarcasm before continuing. “The chaos we had fought so hard to avoid was now in danger of consuming us wholly. The Cult was relentless. They used everything they had to their advantage and nearly succeeded.”

  “So what happened?” I asked.

  “Humans. Seeing that the Cult of Ib would not stop until the entire world had bled out for them, the few vestiges of humanity who still remembered the days of the Humbaba Accord rallied to our side. They entered the fray just as our defenses were about to crumble. Magi and Icons alike bolstered their forces. The tide turned until, eventually, the Cult was crushed and their leadership scattered.”

  “I’ve heard it said that Alexander was rewarded with a promotion to the ranks of the First for his bravery during that final battle,” Calibra said, drawing our attention.

  “Oh?” James replied. “I did not know that.”

  “It’s just rumor, of course.”

  “Of course,” he said. “Regardless, the Cult was hunted down over the next hundred years - destroyed to the last man.”

  “Apparently not,” Tom rightfully mused.

  “Evidently, and that is what disturbs me most. The archives make mention that none of the Cult were to be spared, not even as the decollari.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “It’s because they were afraid of what’s happening right now?”

  James stiffened as he walked, giving me his answer before he voiced it. “Precisely.”

  Some days, I really hated being right.

  Sunset is Never Far Away

  The sewer entrance for the office was sealed tight. Usually, nobody paid any attention to it. Nobody human, that is. Now, however, the manhole cover leading up to the subbasement wouldn’t budge. That was probably my fault as well, seeing as how I’d fallen to the bottom of the elevator shaft with a mutilated corpse in tow - a mess I certainly hadn’t time to clean up.

  “Allow me.”

  James put his back into it and there came a loud squeal of metal - echoing for some time down in the tunnels. Once the heavy duty locks snapped, I was near certain that we’d ascend to find a small arsenal of riot guns pointed at us.

  Instead, nothing but darkness and quiet greeted us, like it would any other night. However, this was definitely unlike any other night I remembered. In the space of less than forty-eight hours, the world had apparently lost its fucking mind.

  “Notice anything?” Ed asked.

  “Yeah, it’s a basement,” I replied.

  “Not you, jackass.”

  “Difficult to say,” James said. “The smell of blood is heavy down here, but there are too many other scents to be more specific: old wiring, mildew, greased electronics, a cot belonging to a maintenance employee who doesn’t believe in washing his hands after masturbating.” He gestured toward what I thought to be a janitor’s closet. Note to self: don’t touch anything in there ever.

  “Vampires?” I asked, not smelling nearly as much as he did - and quite thankful of it for once.

  “Their passage, yes. Recent, too, but it unfortunately doesn’t give me insight into whether any are still here.”

  “Only one way to find out,” Tom said.

  He had a point, although I’d be lying my ass off if I claimed to be looking forward to a rematch with Chuck. That being said, I felt a shitload better knowing who had my back. “Let’s use the stairs. Elevators are out...trust me on this one. Everyone set?”

  “Not all of us,” James said.

  “Oh?” Tom replied defensively. He must have expected to be told this was vampire business. Fucking twit. He didn’t seem to realize that if James didn’t want him there, he wouldn’t be there. He’d already had his brains scrambled by one compulsion this night. Guess that wasn’t enough for him.

  “Indeed,” James replied, turning to Calibra. “Please go and wait for us in the safe house, the one in which we met Dr. Death and his companions.”

  “Wanderer?” she asked questioningly.

  “I know your conviction to your duties. Believe me, I do not doubt them. The situation, however, has changed. What was a disturbing hunch has now become a frightening reality. I need someone in authority to coordinate a response should our search here prove fruitful.”

  Wait...fruitful? Was James basically telling her what I thought he was - that even he wasn’t sure he’d make it out of this alive? So much for feeling better about things.

  Calibra put up a mild argument, but she was too ingrained in the vampire hierarchy to do much more. When one of the Draculas started handing out orders, the only ones who questioned them were the insane or the stupid.

  Considering my habit of doing such, that left me wondering which of the two that made me.

  * * *

  James told Calibra to give us until sunrise before calling in the troops. That gave us a little under two hours. Considering the safe house wasn’t too far away, we’d have plenty of time to search the office and discover it empty - or g
et pummeled into tiny bits of goo if it wasn’t. For the record, despite the worry I felt for Dave, Starlight, and even Firebird, I still hoped for that former scenario.

  The stairwell was empty and dark. Perhaps this building was experiencing a similar outage as we’d seen at the safe house. It seemed a likely explanation.

  We made it up only a few flights before James declared, “A lot of humans died here today...some very recently.” That didn’t exactly fill me with warm fuzzies. “Gunfire, too.”

  “Police?”

  “I can smell nine-millimeter discharge, so that is distinctly possible.”

  “You can tell that?” Ed asked.

  “I can tell a great many things,” he replied with a wry grin, “including that you used exactly one spritz of Drakkar Noir to freshen up your clothing yesterday and your friend here last showered with Axe body wash, but used Dove ladies’ deodorant afterwards.”

  I stopped in my ascent to peer at Tom.

  “What? Christy left it in the bathroom.”

  “I hope she didn’t leave any douche behind too,” Ed muttered.

  “I’d say we already know the answer to that one,” I replied before turning to James. “The people that were killed, were they...”

  “Some. They’re likely to be feral, so be on your guard.”

  He didn’t need to tell me that twice.

  * * *

  The door to the office’s main floor had been locked and sealed, unsurprisingly, with police tape - had being the operative word. Whatever had broken in before our arrival had done so with supernatural strength, using the old vampire trick of turning the knob until the tumblers snapped.

  A soft thud from the next landing alerted me a split second before James said, “Movement above.”

  “We rent that floor, too, for storage. Occasionally, some of the group will sack out there. Maybe...”

  “I concur. It bears investigation.”

  “Human or vamp?”

  “It is difficult to tell. A great deal of vampire scent is lingering on this floor, most of it recent. There’s much more, though: blood, smoke mixed with fresh air, and the trace of an ashing as well.” He no doubt sniffed Monkhbat’s last stand. “This was the epicenter of whatever occurred here.”